


For What It's Worth

by C620



Category: Divergent (Movies), Divergent - All Media Types, Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:14:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 47,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26064070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C620/pseuds/C620
Summary: Anna Laker is the only child of Amity's Ambassors. Having intel on the factions ever since she became a teen, she knows she'll pick Dauntless at the choosing ceremony. Anna struggles over control in her actions, morals clashing as she learns to find tune of herself in Dauntless. ...Now, add three genetically modified hounds into the mix.
Relationships: Eric (Divergent)/Original Character(s), Four | Tobias Eaton/Tris Prior
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Just some stuff I need to lay out before you go ahead reading.
> 
> \- I don't own Divergent or any of the characters from the series (those belonging to Veronica Roth) but I do own any OCs and the added ideas.
> 
> \- Choosing ceremony age is 18
> 
> \- War and Tris's batch is pushed a year back. So Eric and Four are 20, while Tris is 17.
> 
> \- There hasn't been an Amity transfer for more than 20 years.
> 
> \- The main character - Anna - is a divergent
> 
> UPDATE: Every Sunday

I take a step back, the response immediate. Something presses itself to my side - a warm firm body. Instinctively, my right-hand reaches down, fingers threading itself through soft, half-inch long fur.

“Wait.” The fur beneath me bristles, releasing a warning growl. Nodding once, I watch the armor-clothed figure – my cousin – take a step forward. The air shifts and the silver beast paces to stand in front of me, elbows and head bent, ears slightly back – last warning.

I stare at my cousin, his face tense and chest puffed. Even with his seemingly intimidating posture, his eyes give way to nervousness. Sucking in a deep breath, I breathed out: “Go.” The command was barely a sound, yet instantly the ears of the hound lay flat. Like a coiled spring, the animal surges forward, hind legs propelling its body at such speeds that none can outrun. It crosses the gap between me and the man within mere seconds – so fast that John barely has time to react. He lifts his arm, a reflex to protect his face, but before it reaches it’s violently thrown back. A 65-pound dog clamped down with its jaws, body mid-air from the leap. I watch as the dog deftly twist itself, the impact causing the arm to jerk oddly, throwing the victim off balance. John follows the inertia with practiced movements, careful not to resist as it may risk the dislocation of his arm. He lands ungracefully onto the soil, grunting as the air escapes his lungs. The hound releases the arm, going straight to the supposedly twisted shoulder, just as he’s been taught.

In a real situation, the shoulder would’ve taken months to recover, especially with the way my dog throws his weight around as he continues to severe the man. Sabre is an absolute beast, the deadliest due to his lack of hesitation to act and his inhuman speeds. I watch with pride as the silver-coated dog continues to fight against John, latching his jaws onto different parts of the body when John attempts to hit him.

“Break!” I yell over the curses my cousin – he grumbling along the lines of not being prepared. The dog stops, releasing the thick cloth immediately before trotting back to my side, tail wagging and tongue lolling out. He turns to look back before reaching me, making sure that John was still down. I shake my head and smile, crouching down to hug the dog. “That’s my boy.” I coo, hands ruffling the scruff of his neck.

I then walk over to John, peering down at him lying on the ground. Flicking a hand, Sabre trots off to trees, slinking back into the background. “I'm telling you, these dogs? Absolute killers. I don't see why you have to train them anymore,” my cousin grumbles. I chuckle and stick out a hand, John clasps my arm and I pull him to his feet.

“Oh hush,” I roll my eyes, “you speak like you get the brunt of it.”

“I do!” He exclaims, throwing his arms in the air before gesturing to himself wildly. I suppose he does have a point. The baggy cloth he's wearing is embellished with many tears - a tangible masterpiece of my dogs' capabilities. It was my idea to have John wear Nano-armour over the bite suit. Without it, John would’ve been getting the same scars that coated my forearms. He’s lucky that I learned from my mistakes.

“It's the last day, loosen up a lil, yeah?” John huffs and rolls his eyes, looking away. “I think I’m just glad that I don’t have to wear this pathetic excuse of protective gear anymore” he scoffs, gesturing at the battered cloth. But his face softens for a moment and then his eyes bore into mine. “Promise me you'll do well?”

A sad smile forms at the corner of my mouth. “I'll still come to visit, it’s not a big deal,” I attempt to ease the worry in his eyes. I’m not sure who I was convincing, because it’s a lie. It was a big deal. Choosing ceremony was tomorrow, and for the first time in my 18 years, I'll be alone, no dogs, no parents, no John. I push those thoughts away before they escalate, we still have work to get done. Giving him an awkward hug as the suit he was wearing is still bulky, baggy and smelly, I pat him on the back. “Don't get all sad on me now, it's illegal here.” A grin spreads across my face, “Plus, we still have two more dogs to go. And I promise they won’t be as bad as Sabre.”

John groans, crushing me into a hug for a moment before letting go. Straightening his rather flattering outfit, he steps away and smiles, huffing in annoyance. “Let's get this over with.”

* * *

We ended slightly earlier today, with him claiming that I need to spend these last few hours with my 'kids'. He passed me the cloth-based frisbee and shoo me out of the backyard, grumbling about how he needs a good shower.

So here I was, out in the fields that stretched to the fence. My dogs trek alongside me, occasionally pausing to sniff the grass before continuing. I stop when we reach a good distance away from civilization. It was still early in the evening, and the sun was yet to set. Glancing at the fence, I watch in mild interest at the Dauntless stomping along the fence. They guard the city against things no one knows. I often wonder how they do it, standing there in the stifling heat dressed in black for hours on end. I can barely make out what each person looked like, just their hair length and body build – that's how high up they were.

Turning back to the fields, I lay down. My palms smoothen out my slightly dirty, red pleated skirt before lean against my arms. Gunner digs the earth at my side, uncovering soft soil before lying down beside me. He seemed to have tired from the other two antics, choosing to enjoy my presence instead of playing the endless game of chase. Despite being the most serene among the three, Gunner was the most protective. He always stuck close by me, regardless of whether it was needed. I stroke the back of his ears, my fingers easily sliding through his fur. Gunner was bigger than the other two and had a longer coat. His fur was gold, with a black overcoat. Though, his gold fur was still easily seen, accentuated around his shoulder blades, neck and thighs. Sable, that's the official name for his coat.

The loudly thumping of paws and panting of breath makes me groan. I only manage to twist my back halfway before familiar grey-black fur barrels into my back. “Sabre!” I whine, laughing as the attack dog lick my cheeks and mouth. My face scrunches up and I spit onto the ground, disgusted. Crazy creature, he was, and an annoying one too. Sabre was a bundle of joy and irritation the moment he came out of the incubation pod. The loudest and rowdiest of the trio. I pushed him away with my arm, and he thankfully backs off, not before tugging my skirt with his teeth to get me to play with him.

Minutes tick to hours as I stay at the fields, throwing the frisbee for Sabre and Hawk. It’s a delight to watch the dogs have fun, definitely something I’ll never tire from. At one point, joy bubbles in my chest. I find myself chasing the dogs, laughing and squealing as they try to instead nip my skirt. I’m vaguely aware that I was acting like a hysterical Amity; though, I don’t particularly care. At one point Sabre runs towards me, making me stretch my arms out as he jumps onto me. I manage to catch him, my feet still firmly on the ground despite the 65 pounds of pure muscle that decided he was now a lap dog. I giggle and spin him around while he whines and shuffles in my arms, realizing that he wasn't cut out to be one.

As I’m about to place him down, another mass of muscle collides with my front. Instantly my legs give out, falling with Sabre on top of me. The silver dog yelps and scrambles off me, going to the side of my face to see if I still alive enough to feed him dinner. “Hawk!” I groan, rubbing the back of my head that wasn’t too badly injured, we were on soft soil after all. A light brown dog sporting black ears and mask comes into view, panting heavily over me. “You ass!” I grumble, shoving him off as I move to sit up. Gunner barks from behind me, growling at Hawk. “Both of you!” I gesture to the silver and brown ones condescendingly, “Just horrible! Most of my wounds come when you guys decide to have an adrenaline rush!” I sigh and stand while Hawk looks up apologetic towards me, at least, I think it’s apologetic. Waving him off, I dust my clothes to remove the grass and soil that stuck.

The sun is beginning to set, the colors mixing between coral and azure. It’s a magnificent sight, one I don’t often see despite coming to the fields every day. However, right when I’m about to head home, something heavy settle on my back, something akin to someone staring. I turn around and look at the fence, for there was no one else except for the Dauntless for a good mile radius. And right there, multiple stories high is a man. Now, of course, he isn’t the only man on the fence, but with his back hunched as he rests his elbows against the railings, I knew his attention is to me. Blood creeps to my face as I wonder how long he's been standing there, watching me frolic and fall like a lunatic with 3 dogs. Gunner comes to stand beside me, noticing the way I tensed. I stroke his back and glance at the dog whose head came to my hips, it didn’t help that I wasn’t very tall. The sable dog looks at me questioningly, I shake my head. Despite my assurance, the dog continued to stay tense beside me, ears perked and twitching towards every sound made.

The Dauntless stares back unabashedly, and I can't tell what he's thinking,\ for I can't see. Is he smirking? Frowning? Leering? Smiling? Is he even looking at me? For all I know, he could be watching the sunset too. It was, after all, a beautiful sunset; though, the sunset is the other direction. The Erudite in me tells me to not be stupid, of course, he’s staring at me. The Dauntless cocks his head to the side and I note his bulky muscular build. He wears a sleeveless vest that seems to cling to his torso. His hair short or tied, and from what I can tell, a dark color.

As minutes stretch on, I contemplate going up to the fence to get a closer look, maybe ask him why the hell he's staring. I should feel creeped out, yet I don't. There's something about him, like he wasn't some perv checking me out, as much as his actions suggest so. I can't help the warmth blossoming at my chest when I look down, breaking eye contact – if we were maintaining eye contact in the first place. It kinda felt oddly nice.

Being with dogs has desensitized me from people around, minus my parents and John. I don’t have friends, nor do I feel the need to have any. Most of my schooling life was spent alone, even before the dogs. I never felt particularly lonely or left out, mainly because Amity never actually leaves anyone out. So, despite being somewhat a loner, there were still people who engaged small talk with me. But most of the time I find myself withholding a rude remark about how I don’t care how your day is going – not that I’ve told anyone that.

The sun’s almost gone and the sky’s settling into a deep blue. I start heading back home. My dogs tag along behind me, somewhat tired from running the past hour.

I don't look back as I trek. Maybe it was the fear of disappointment if he was wasn't staring at me anymore, or the hope if he still was, I wasn't sure. I decided to give myself the benefit of doubt, and walk home with a slight skip. Stupid Amity roots.  



	2. Chapter 2

Entering my home, I slip off my running shoes at the door and place them on the shoe rack. Father always voiced that having shoes in the house was illogical and unhygienic; an Erudite quirk that hadn’t quite faded through the years. Of course, this verdict applies to all members of the household, including those with paws. Grabbing the cloth by the door, I crouch to clean three sets of feet. The dogs are beat, not hesitating to trudge to the kitchen for water after I clear them.

Only when I finally shut the door, do I belatedly realize that the house smells of my favorite dish – lasagne. My mom was just placing a pot of goodness when I entered the dining room. The apron and mittens she wore wasn’t something I could ever be used to seeing. To me, my mother belonged outside, much like me. “Hey.”

She perks up, a smile immediately gracing her lips. “How was your day?”

The man at the fence briefly flashes through my mind. “The usual: dog training with John, fields, yadda yadda. Nothing special” I list nonchalantly, waving my hand. Giving a mom a quick hug, I head to the kitchen. “You?”

The meat was already on the counter, a mixture of raw beef, bones, organs, and chicken. Washing my hands and grabbing a knife, I pulled out a chopping board and three metal bowls. “I went to Dauntless today, it was... eventful...” I turn my head towards her, my interest piqued. “I’ll tell you when Adrian comes home.” Nodding absentmindedly, I spend the next few minutes chopping and dishing out the meat. My dogs eat in luxury, never would I ever feed them the sad excuse alternative: kibble. Raw meat was much easier, much less maintenance on my side. Plus, it was much healthier too, their shiny coats prove so. 

Picking up two bowls, I turn to face the already sitting the dogs. They eye the bowls with their heads perked and tails wagging. Amused, I placed the bowls in front of Sabre and Hawk, not waiting any longer to prevent them from drooling all over the tiles. The dogs were shoveling the food down their throats before I even finish placing Gunner’s bowl down. After cleaning the counter, I re-enter the dining room. Dad just came through the door, face tense and stressed. My mother was there to greet him, kissing him on the lips briefly before placing his case away. I stand by the threshold and watch them interact. My parents were the epitome of love. I never understood their strong bond despite transferring from different factions and having different views. Watching them every day only made me wish that I would find someone that would love me as much as they love each other. For some reason, my mind drifts back to the man at the fence. Even from afar, I felt a bond creating. No wait, that sounds stupid. Maybe I’m being ridiculous.

I _am_ being ridiculous. 

Shaking my head from my thoughts, I take a seat at the table while my parents do the same. Dad’s the first to break the silence, “so I was at Erudite today…“ He pauses to scoop out a hefty portion of lasagne. “and I think they’re up to something big.” The one thing about Erudite is that they are always up to something, it was their sly actions that made Dad and I create the dogs, believing that there will come a day where we would use them. He didn’t trust Erudite, despite being a former Erudite himself. It was his mistrust that he insisted to be an ambassador, wanting to keep a close eye. Johanna immediately agreed, she and Adrian were in the same initiate class, and quickly become close friends. When Johanna was elected as the leader, she placed Adrian and Sarah as ambassadors, trusting them to collect information, ensuring that Amity will always silently be in the loop of things. 

“How so?” I ask.

“Well to start, Erudite,” he coughs, “mostly Jeanine, has been releasing reports on Abnegation hoarding food.” Mother and I frown. “Which is ridiculous, considering that it’s _Abnegation._ If Abnegation was truly hoarding food, the people will finally gain some weight, and honestly, they should.” He chews thoughtfully. Leave it to my tree-hugger dad to find fault in every faction. “Plus, the whole point of Erudite giving us the gene-modifier tech was to increase food production, which has. So, I don’t even see the point of releasing accusations when there isn’t a big shortage of food.”

“Maybe Erudite thinks Abnegation gets first pick on the produce?” I chip in. 

“That’s not true, but maybe. Honestly, if the food was such a problem, Jeanine should be coming to Amity – me, instead. I’m sure we can figure something out. I mean, it’s not like I go to Erudite every week.” He rolls his eyes sarcastically. 

“If Erudite is up to something, I bet Dauntless is in the loop.” Mom pipes, the frown on her face becoming more and more prominent. “Max and Eric have been frequenting to Erudite, I always have to reschedule my meetings with them.”

“Any reason why?” Dad asks with his head tilted. The fact that he isn’t aware means that the meetings were held in secret.

“I didn’t pry. Though, on the bright side, Max did shed some news on the initiate program. Apparently, Eric has been installing massive changes.” My ears perk up at the mention of the initiation program, I was hungry to know what becoming a Dauntless was like.

Mom shares of the new ‘cut system’ and how conceding was no longer an option during initiate fights. I wince at the news, feeling grateful for the two years I spent preparing for the physical stage of initiation. When I told my parents that I plan to transfer to Dauntless, they weren’t shocked at my revelation. It was common for kids to transfer back to their parent’s original factions. So my mom began to prepare me for Dauntless, taking time off a few days a week to teach me fighting techniques and help me build my fitness. It was also when I was 16 when Dad started to develop the dogs, tweaking the DNA of the canines preserved from before the Great War, courtesy of Erudite technology.

As she elaborates on the changes, I think about Dauntless’s newest leader: Eric Coulter. From that I’m hearing, he seems to be some sadist that enjoyed watching dependants – who’ve just picked their new life – become factionless. Who in the right mind gave him the position? My head pounds as I try to understand his decisions. I decided immediately that I dislike him. He's definitely someone I wouldn’t want to associate with.

Mom continues talking about the relationship between the head and youngest leader, saying how Max seems rather fond of the 20-year-old. My face scrunches into disgust. Why was Max even allowing the initiation process to turn so brutal? There had to be a reason, and I have a feeling that I wouldn’t like the answer. 

* * *

After dinner, I help clean the table and check on the dogs. They were sleeping in the living room, out like a light. I took a long shower, savoring the warm water like it was the last, and went to spend my last few hours with my parents. I will miss them, just like I would miss John and my dogs. I briefly consider staying in Amity, then I won’t need to consider ‘faction before blood’. Perhaps the phrase was good for those with want nothing to do with their family. For me, it was an inconvenience, a major one at that. But I knew Amity wasn’t for me, I couldn’t stand everyone, all they are are high-on-peace-serum smiling drunkards. I rarely dine at the Dome, but when I do, it’s often with my parents or John, the only people - well maybe Johanna too - who make an effort to avoid the dinner rolls. There was only so much I can do to avoid the general population, and I knew that if I stayed, there was no way I could.

I slip into bed that night, Gunner by my feet while the other two were still passed out downstairs. The moon’s bright through my window and I try not to think about how it may be the last I’ll see it for a long time. The fact that Dauntless lives underground puts me off, perhaps I could slip out once in a while.

At the thought of Dauntless, my mind drifts back to the man at the fence. I wonder what he thought of me. Did I look like every other Amity? Though it was a possibility, I highly doubt it, he wouldn’t have stared so long if I was just another ‘banjo-strummer’. Perhaps he was intrigued by my dogs, that was a larger possibility. My heart sinks at that thought, and I try to brush that away. I question if it’s the first time he’s seeing me, I never actually paid much attention to the guards by the fence. For all I know, he could’ve been watching me every day, and was only caught today. The fact that he didn’t turn away and hide his actions was what drew me to him. Would I meet him in the Dauntless compound? Or will I have to get a job at the fence to meet him? Was he even a fence guard? 

I grab one of my pillows and crush it to my face, groaning. I need to stop overthinking and overanalyzing things. Slamming the pillow on my face repeatedly, I try to rid all thoughts of the man. I didn’t need a mirror to know that my cheeks were beet red. Stupid Erudite, stupid hormones, stupid man. 

After having a brief reprimanding session with myself, I close my eyes and will sleep to come to me. I need all the sleep I can get. I will get all the sleep I can get. No stupid Dauntless man is going to take that away from me. _No one._

What does his hair feel like?


	3. Chapter 3

Monday: Choosing Day.

My eyes flew open at that thought. The sun had just risen, 7 am. Three hours before I leave my faction behind. It was bittersweet, leaving Amity. Sensing my distress and sudden shaky breaths, Gunner comes to my side, snuggling up to provide moral support for things he didn’t understand. I spend a few minutes on my bed, hugging my dog close as I try to commit everything to memory. My plain room with simple beige walls, with pictures of my dogs and I stuck all over. There’s a wooden wardrobe by the toilet door, containing clothes of Amity colors: red, orange, yellow.

A knock sounds at the door, and I brace myself. Without a moment to spare, it’s forced open as my dogs do their routine wake-up call: Jumping on my bed and invading my personal space. I giggled as a mass of silver and fawn fur pin my sheets down, sniffing and licking my face. Gunner huffs and hops off the bed, passing my dad at the doorway in mild irritation. “Choosing ceremony.” he greets, lips pursed.

“Choosing ceremony.” I parrot back, my expression mirroring his as the air turns somber.

“Breakfast’s downstairs,” he says – an attempt to break the awkward silence that had fallen. I nod in response as he slips out of my room, closing the door to give me privacy. After reciprocating the morning greeting, I quickly brushed my teeth. Deciding for once to ditch my red pleated skirts, I slip on dark brown jeggings and paired it with a maroon shirt. It’ll have to do, mother said that Dauntless starts their initiation the moment I leave the ceremony – with running.

Slipping on a hair tie on my wrist, I check my reflection one last time in my room. Green eyes stare back at me, excitement and sadness fighting for dominance. Round eyes, button nose, pink bow-shaped lips. My brown hair came down to my shoulders, slightly wavy but relatively straight. I have to thank my mother for my good looks, for I most resembled her. All except my eyes, those came from Adrian. He seems to love that fact, occasionally boasting it to his wife whenever I wear a dress that makes my eyes pop.

I turn my attention to the pictures posted all around the mirror. Each one showing my dogs and I playing or snuggling together in various stages of their lives. I pluck a small polaroid, it was a picture of us in the fields during sunset. John had tagged along that day, whipping out his camera when he saw the picture-perfect moment. Gunner was lying in front of me, staring straight into the camera in all his majestic glory. I sat cross-legged behind him, hands supporting my back. Sabre had crept from behind me, pouncing and licking my face right when I didn’t expect it. The picture was him in a mid-lick, his tongue on my cheek while was my head was turned to the side, scrunched up and squealing. For Hawk, only his face was visible. He was in the middle of sniffing the camera, I was surprised he didn’t take up half of the picture. His face was comical and slightly blurred, his black nose bigger than my head. He looked kind-of stupid, with his eyes so close that it looked crossed. I love it. Tucking the palm-sized image into my bra, I head out of my room.

Breakfast was a quiet affair. My parents dressed in their Amity best, which wasn’t much compared to Erudite and Candor. We occasionally exchange small talk, unsure of what to say.

Before we left the house, I slip on harnesses onto my dogs, as well as leashing them. I know the separation wasn’t going to go down well, so I’m prepared for the worst. We made our way to Johanna’s office-stable, customary for all who’s attending the ceremony. The walk is silent, me pondering about my new life while my parents comfort each other. The hounds seem excited, tails wagging and noses sniffing, they must think that we are going on an adventure. Leashes always mean new adventures.

“Anna.” Johanna greets, pulling me into an embrace. She gives me a comforting squeeze before pulling away.

“Johanna.”

A beat passes. Johanna has been supportive of the dogs since day one. Despite supposedly being the representative of our faction, she too doesn’t trust the rest to play their part in keeping the peace. She was the one who suggested attack dogs, having Adrian visit the Erudite library to find out more about how dogs were used before the Great War. Dad left the dogs’ genetic makeup to me, trusting that I’ll pick dogs with good temperaments and physique. 

Gunner is a german shepherd. He’s the bravest and most courageous of the three, and if Dauntless were to ever have a mascot, it would be him. The only feature I tweaked about the sable-colored dog is his territorial tendencies, swapped and heightened with a Bullmastiffs’.

Sabre is built like the killer he is. The consequences of mixing his genes with a grey wolf – for stronger jaws – is his volatile playfulness and his occasional need for howling. He’s noticeably larger compared to a normal Belgian Malinois, though, not bigger than Gunner. However, he is marginally taller. 

Hawk is the smallest. He’s an escape artist, a result of sharing the intelligence of a Border Collie. The fawn-colored Belgian Malinois is typically quiet, spending most of his time analyzing situations if he isn’t playing with Sabre. Hawk is the one I’ve spent the most time on during training, his capability to pick up on things never cease to amaze me. The downside of this dog is his sudden whims to herd when he sees the sheep grazing in the fields. Gunner and Sabre often join in, their breed originally being herders themselves. Most of the time it causes a ruckus since the sheep are more used to the smaller less vicious border collies farmers use.

Out of the three, Hawk is always the first to befriend a stranger. He’s queer in a way that he often craves the attention of people around over mine; not that I’m complaining - Sabre and Gunner are a handful already.

Johanna turns to the three hounds that flank my side. “Don't worry. They’ll be safe with me.” She says.

I try to smile back, but I can’t. I’m a mother who’s abandoning her children. Though it will only be temporary, it does nothing to lessen the pain. “I know you will.” I take a deep breath. “Thank you so much, for everything.”

I hug my leader once more, before going down on a knee to my dogs. Seeing that I needed space, she backs off, turning to greet other 18-year-olds and their families with wide smiles. Gunner’s the first to come to me. He always knows when I’m down, a skill he picked up after spending most of his life by my side. Grabbing the scruff around his neck, I leaned my forehead against his. “I love you,” I whisper. I kiss him on the top of his head and pull him close, uncaring of the loose fur that will litter my shirt. My actions seem mechanic as I do the same for Hawk, then Sabre, though my heart beats erratically, breaking a little bit more as I let go of each one. I will not cry. I will not cry. The mantra repeats itself in my head. My dogs stare up at me, questioning and worried. I will not cry.

“So the beasts get hugs and kisses while I don’t?” A man huffs playfully a few feet away, arms crossed and an eyebrow perked. At his voice I drop the leashes, a genuine smile gracing my face. I launch myself at him, his arms immediately encircling my waist, crushing me to his chest. ‘Anna.’ He greets belatedly.

“John.” I pipe back, my hands pulling down his head to kiss his cheek. “I’ll miss you.”

“You better.” His response is immediate, making me smack the upside of his head. John bursts out laughing, his chest bouncing and shaking me with him. He picks me up and spins me, eyes full of mirth as I squeal and cling onto him tightly. “I’ll see you soon?”

“You will.” At my reassurance, he tightens his hold. We stay like that for a few seconds, soaking up the last moments. To others, we seem like the perfect Amity couple, all laughter and embraces. John’s woman was going to be one lucky ass.

Releasing me, John moves to pick up the abandoned leashes, “they’ll be safe.”

I smile back, this time, it doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “Try not to get yourself killed in the process alright?” I attempt to joke.

John chuckles and shakes his head. “You don’t say so yourself.” I glance around to check if anyone’s watching us, then flip him the bird.

“Stay,” I tell my dogs, holding out my hand. They obediently do so, Hawk and Gunner lie down to get comfortable. Sabre wags his tail once before it falls flat. “I love you,” I repeat, eyes meeting each one as I say them.

It was time. The trucks are starting to fill out with people, all of them talking animatedly or singing folk songs. My parents wave me over to one of the trucks and I turn. As I was about to reach them, something occurs in my mind. “Oh and John?”

‘Yeah?’ He stands watching me, the dogs in the position I left them.

“If they ever get out of hand, remember to feed-“

“Yes yes. I know,” he waves off nonchalantly. “Shoo!”

I send him one more smile and climb into the truck, leaving my old life behind.

The hall is packed with people. I hurry to the Amity portion – smacked in the middle – and take a seat with my parents. With them sitting on either side of me, they embrace me and kiss my cheeks, telling me how proud they are, and how they know I’ll do well in Dauntless. I smile and believe them. After all, I have been preparing for this since 16.

The ceremony starts with Johanna speaking of the history of the factions. Each faction cheers loudly at the mention of their own, with Dauntless being the wildest and the exception of Abnegation deciding that applause would suffice. Within moments, names are called and knives are passed. Each new knife a new life determined. The Amity is last to go, as we are the hosting faction.

“Anna Laker.” I jerk from my seat, my heart suddenly beating miles an hour. My parents squeeze my hands in reassurance; I squeeze back. “I love you,” I whisper, smiling at them.

Rising from my seat, I tense my legs as I walk to the stage. My knees are shaking and gooseflesh appear at the number of stares on my back. Johanna passes me the dagger, and mouths ‘be brave.’ I nod stiffly, taking a deep breath and make a small incision in my palm. As the blood begins to pool I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. I can do this. I think the hall is silent, but I know there were still mutters. No one cared what you chose, they were probably forced into coming to show face.

I see a vision, a life of happiness and no worries – Amity. Do I want to leave? Especially with what's starting to brew between Dauntless and Erudite, and the newest malicious leader: Eric? Do I want to be caught up in this mess? I think back to my parents. They told me they transferred because they believed in peace among all. Amity is peace. They transferred because they didn't want to be in the loop when everything heads south, not trusting their factions to not be conspiring. I believe in peace, and I want peace. To achieve that, I'll need to dive into the heart of the problem. That’s the only thing that makes me different from them. And sometimes, you must be the change you wish to see in the world.

At that, I spill my blood over the coals, the sizzling blood echoes the walls.

“Dauntless!”

Now, it was truly silent. What did I expect? The last transfer between Amity and Dauntless was more than twenty years ago – my mother. I wipe my non-bloodied sweaty palm on my pants, hands suddenly growing cold. Then the gasps start, and then the murmurs. I wince and glance at my previous faction, shock and horror evident on each face. I suppose I am a traitor, going against everything Amity stands for. They were so wrong. My eyes drift to my parents. They're smiling at me, pride and love shining through. I smile back and turn away, stumbling off the stage and grabbing some gauze Johanna had thoughtfully prepared for my hands.

And then it was like a dam broke. The Dauntless who've just recovered from their shock jump from their seats. They cheer and hoot loudly, it was louder than I've ever heard today. Some move forward to congratulate me and pat my back. I don't suppress the grin on my face as I move to take a seat one of them offered me. As the cheering slowly die down, which took much longer than usual, the ceremony continued.

I sit beaming as members of Dauntless throw full-blown grins at me, some telling me how brave I am. Suddenly curious, I turn from my seat and look around, trying to gauge the transfers. All Erudite and Candor. One of the Erudite boys stood out, mostly because he was glaring at me. My eyes narrow. _Huh._ The boy had dirty blonde hair, and oddly enough, muscles budging at his suit, resulting in the suit being tight around his torso.

Johanna finishes the ceremony by congratulating the 18-year-olds and wishing them well. The moment she concludes the ceremony, the Dauntless stand to leave. I run alongside them as they make their way down the building, running and hooting like hooligans. Joy bubbles my chest as I follow them; quickly tying my hair into a ponytail. As the Dauntless make their way to the railway tracks, I notice some of the transfers' steps faltering. We had to climb the beams to board the train. For once, I'm grateful for spending my childhood climbing trees, Dad said I could've broken my arm – which I did – but that’s okay.

Effortlessly, I scale the beams that held the tracks, eyes always on the next step I take, never looking down. I was the second transfer to reach, with the bulky Erudite being the first. Someone had definitely been practicing.

"Tree-hugger! Hey!" a voice sounds to the right of me. It belonged to a Dauntless-born, he seems out of breath for some odd reason. I bit back a snarky remark, didn't need to make enemies on the first day of initiation. The boy continues after he takes a few breaths, realizing that I wasn't going to respond. "How" Pant. "Did you" Pant. "Climb the beams so fast?" he forces out the last part in one breath. I chuckle at how comical he looks, with his brunette hair sticking out in odd places, he didn't seem to have ill intentions.

"I'm a tree-hugger remember? I climb trees for fun." The boy grows red at my response, suddenly realizing how stupid his question was. His group of friends – another brunette boy and a blonde girl – laughs at him, slapping him on his back while he scratches his neck.

"I like you. I'm Skylar" The girl pipes, extending a hand out for me to shake. I blink once before clasping her hand stiffly in mine, Amity doesn't shake hands. She wiggles our hands awkwardly in what I assume is a handshake before letting go. "Idiot here is Jace. He's more muscle than brain."

"Hey!"

I chuckle. "I can tell."

"And this is Zack" Skylar introduces, gesturing to a slightly shorter boy beside her. He extends his hand in greeting, a grin on his face. I do my best to return the gesture, forcing myself to relax my arm as he shakes our hands.

"I'm Anna," I say. Just then, the platform beneath us rumbles. The train was heading to us quickly, and it didn't seem to be slowing. The Dauntless-born starts running with the train, I follow at their heels. As the train approaches, I watch them hurl themselves into the open carriages. Crazy people. Grabbing the handle by the door, I do my best to copy their actions. I stumble slightly as I yank myself into the carriage, scurrying further into the cart before I stand. Members and transfers pile in behind me, all landing with various stages of success.

I find the group of Dauntless-born and sit with them. We converse among each other, consisting mainly of me answering questions on what Amity was like. I don’t tell them about my dogs. It was a hard task to do, considering that my final years in Amity revolved around them. I ask about their lives; apparently, the trio had been inseparable since high school. Skylar mentions that she’s seen me around a few times in history class. She asks if I had any friends in Amity, I say no. She’s surprised, considering that I seem nice. I shrug in response, leaning against the car for the rest of the ride.

Jace’s the one who shakes me awake. My eyes crack open to see that the Dauntless initiates were getting onto their feet. We’re near the headquarters. Thanking Jace, I move to stand and pop my neck, following them to the opposite end of the car’s opening. The Dauntless members continue to sit on the floor, wishing us good luck. I guessed that there were two ways into the compound, with this method being less favored. The initiates take a running start, with the Dauntless-borns leading the way. I don’t pause before following them. 

Most of the transfers hesitate, seemingly bewildered and horrified of the concept of doing a dangerous stunt in the only faction known for it. As the initiates leap off the car, I do the same. My eyes flash briefly at the ground as I fall weightless in the air, a large gap between the train tracks and roof. We are a few stories up, mild panic fills my chest. Heights was something I always hated. The fear had developed after I fell off the tree when I was ten. After that, I’ve always avoided looking down from high buildings. The panic disappears just as fast as it appeared. My hands and knees slam onto gravel, the rocks digging into my palms. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, eyes probably budging in shock. 

I made it.


	4. Chapter 4

The first thing I notice – other than the fact that we were on a rooftop – is the sun overhead us. Choosing ceremony had ended within two hours, making the time now somewhere around lunch. Even just having exited the train, I can already feel the heat burning through my clothes. As a previous Amity, one would assume that I love the sun. In some ways, I do, but not when it’s at the highest. I squint at the sun, mentally cursing like it would somehow hear me and disappear.

I glance around me, noting the initiates who’re picking themselves up, brushing down their suits and black attire. Four Erudite and three Candor, so eight transfers. There were ten Dauntless-born, which made eighteen initiates in total.

“Initiates!” A voice booms from one end of the roof. I turn to gather at voice, along with everyone else. A man stands at the edge of the building. Blonde hair shaved short at the sides, muscular, hard eyes. I would be a fool to not acknowledge his attractiveness. Are all Dauntless this handsome? "I'm Eric, one of the five leaders of Dauntless." I inwardly wince. Great. "Below me is the entrance to Dauntless. To enter, you'll have to jump."

It takes me a moment to process his words. Belatedly, I realise that behind him was a giant gaping hole. An initiate gulps nervously beside me, I try not to roll my eyes. As sadistic as Eric may be, I highly doubt he would kill us on the first day. "Someone’s gotta go first. So, who's it gonna be? Transfer, preferably." At that, he lifts his head from the ground, a smirk on his lips. Eric eyes each transfer menacingly, daring them to step forward. Most of the transfers hunch and look towards the ground in response, trying to make themselves seem smaller – as if we weren’t the only ones on the roof. When his eyes land on me, he gives me a once over and blinks twice, genuinely confused. Huh.

I hold my gaze on him, quirking an eyebrow. A moment passes and I wait for him to spit out a snarky remark, only because he seems like the type that would.

Nothing.

"I will." I speak up, stepping forward. Eric's eyes harden as he nods gruffly, stepping aside to give me space. I don't break eye contact as I move to the ledge, the initiates around me scamper away to make room. Chickens. Taking my place beside the leader, my eyes are still trained on his, just slightly strained up. Slate blue. Eric towers over me, he wasn’t particularly a giant, but I wasn’t tall either. I’m eye level to his collarbone. Not that it’s supposed to matter.

I don’t look away, for I didn’t want to look down. For some reason, looking at a psychopath was much easier than a black hole, it doesn’t help with the fact that the psychopath is unfortunately hot. My world shifts as I lean forward, the force of gravity pulling me down towards the hole. I squeeze my eyes close after Eric’s face disappears from my view, my stomach lurching violently at the shift of the weight. I do my best to not think about how I was like Humpty Dumpty, falling to his grave. The scream that was in my throat couldn’t force itself out, lodge at the tip of my tongue. Never have I ever felt so heavy, the wind howling as the speed of the fall increases, air resistance doing little to help me. Forcing myself to think happy thoughts – which weren’t much at the moment – I tense my arms beside me, to keep them from flailing like a juvenile bird as I dive on my chest.

Then I collide with something hard and elastic, the impact causing me to bounce off the ground only to fall back again. My eyes fly open and I groan, rubbing my face that took their fair share of the impact. As the net stabilises, it tilts to one side, making me roll into a strong pair of sun-kissed arms. The man places me onto my feet, which results in me stumbling slightly before he steadies me again by the shoulders. I look up towards him, a ‘thank you’ on my tongue. His handsome face is amused, and I immediately flush red. Was there something on my face? My hand goes to my cheeks, feeling for net imprints. 

“Eric pushed you?” He asks. I sigh in relief and shake my head. Compared to Eric, this man was lean. Though, there’s nothing lean about him, considering that his biceps were two-thirds the size of my face. He wears a plain black tee complete with slacks. “So you volunteered first?” He pries, unconvinced. Snapping out of my ogling session, a smile spreads across my face and I shrug. I don’t tell him that I volunteered to escape the heat, deciding to give him the benefit of doubt. “Well then… Name?”

“Anna.”

He turns away and shouts, “First Jumper, Anna!” Cheers fill the air, and I realise that we weren’t alone. Turning back to me, his voice noticeably softer, “Welcome to Dauntless.” 

Thanking him, I climb down the platform. It’s an open cavern, filled with a unusually large crowd of Dauntless. Either they loved watching initiates fall awkwardly ten stories up, or they just had nothing better to do, I couldn't decide. As I reach the last step down, a girlish scream echoes around the cavern. Another initiate. I move to stand awkwardly in front of the net, some of the members coming up to congratulate me on being the first jumper. 

Jace's the third to land. After he's hauled off the net, he practically skips to me. "Hey Anna! Anna!" He shouts over the cheering, as if I wasn’t already looking at him the moment he fell from the sky. "See that guy over there?" Jace points at the scrawny Candor boy, the second jumper. I follow his hand at the boy and eye the boy warily, he seems pretty shaken up.

“What about him?”

Jace opens his mouth to respond before bursting into laughter. My brows furrow, confuse as to why a falling Candor is funny. “Eric.” Chuckle. “Threw” More chuckles. “Him off the building!” Jace grips his stomach and bends over, like the information was the funniest thing he’s heard in his whole life.

I give him a moment to calm down, glancing back to the boy to find him glaring at us. “What’s so funny about that?” I ask.

“You should’ve seen his face!” The Dauntless-born takes a deep breath and tries to sober up. “After you fell, there was no sound. No screams, no yelps, yeah? So like, Eric asked who wanted to go next, and all of us, reasonably, thought that either you were dead or still falling.” Jace eyes flash briefly at a female initiate falling, the Dauntless roar and whoop like they didn’t just see the exact thing happening a minute ago. “As expected, no one came forward. You could see the vein in Eric’s forehead popping as the time ticked on. I was waiting for him to snap, cause Eric always snaps. And he did! He marched over to the nearest initiate, Mr. Candor over there, grabbed his collar, and dragged him to the hole.” At this point, my mouth is puckered like I swallowed something sour. “The Candor was screaming bloody murder the whole way, saying how he didn’t want to die.” He finishes, amuse.

I turn to the Candor, flashing him a look of sympathy. “Right.” I reply pathetically, having no idea what to say or how to react. Jace rolls his eyes playfully and turns back to the raining initiates. We fall into a comfortable silence, well, as silent as the Dauntless can be.

By the time all the initiates have screamed, land, and rolled off the net, my legs ache and my ears burn. The man who caught the initiates gestures for us to gather, a Dauntless woman trailing behind him. “Initiates, listen up!” He shouts, the chatter among us quickly dying off. “Dauntless-born, Lauren will be your instructor.” The woman behind him waves briefly before turning around, striding off towards the exit.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” Jace says beside me. I nod as he waves, skipping to his friends and the rest of the Dauntless-born, immediately striking up new conversation. He reminds me of Sabre, always full of energy and cheery, all he needed was deadly skills to match.

After the last of the Dauntless-born exits, the man turns to address us. “My name’s Four.” He pauses briefly, as if expecting something to happen. The scrawny Candor boy beside me opens his mouth, but it quickly shuts as Four’s eyes narrow. Four was an odd name, but I wasn’t too bothered about it, mainly because I didn’t care. “I normally work in the control room, but for this month of initiation, I am your instructor.” Four pauses to take a breath, like he was annoyed he was here. “Now, I’m going to give you a tour around Dauntless. If you do _happen_ to have a remark, do yourself a favour and keep your mouth shut.” He snaps at the end.

My nose flares in amusement as Four turns to where the Dauntless-born had went, not waiting to see if the transfers understood. I decide that I like him.

* * *

The tour around Dauntless was brief. Four showed us the Pit, chasm, training room and dining hall. I suppose he didn’t need to show us everything else, only what was needed for us to survive initiation. By the time we reach the dormitory, the only Candor girl looks as pale as a sheet. I guess no one told her that Dauntless doesn’t do railings. Four tells us that we’ll be sharing the dorm, boys and girls alike. I watch in amusement as the faces of the three girls fall in horror, while the boys exchange lewd smirks. Four quirks an eyebrow at me, seeing that I seem too calm about the news. I shrug my shoulders, giving him a tight lipped smile. He doesn’t say anything about it.

“How will we change?” A Erudite girl squeaks meekly.

“With your hands.” Four replies monotonously. I bit back a laugh and look at the ceiling, lips pursed. I’m forever grateful for the good relationship between Max and my mother, her access to information has saved me a heart attack.

“And the showers?” The bulky Erudite boy asks, eyes glowing at the obvious answer.

Four glares him down, crossing his arms across his chest. “You would know the answer if you just walk inside.” The initiates rush into the dorm, most of them heading to check the open bathroom. I’m the only one who knows the answer, allowing me to have first pick of the bunks. I pick the one nearest the door.

“I would’ve thought you would be the one getting the worst end of culture shock.” Four says beside me. I lift my head from the chest I opened.

“My mom’s an ambassador to Dauntless, I have a few ideas on what everything’s like.” I say.

If the information shocked Four, he sure didn’t show it. “Nice that you came prepared.” He replies. Before I can respond, the initiates re-enter the bunks. The Candor girl’s pale face had contorted to a sickly green. “There are a set of clothes in the chests, just to help you get started. I would suggest visiting the Pit, there are shops where you can find clothing and other necessities. Some points have been given to you, these replenish by the end of the week, based on your ranks. Training’s-“

“Rank?” Another Erudite girl blurts out. Aren’t there ranks in Erudite initiation as well?

“Yes, ranks. I’ll explain more tomorrow. Training’s from eight to six every day at the training room starting tomorrow, you’re free to do whatever after that.” Four glances on the clock on a wall. “I would suggest heading to the mess hall now, after you change your clothes of course, it’s well past lunch hour.” With that, Four exits the room swifty, leaving the initiates in silence.

Grabbing the clothes from the trunk and turning to face the wall, I begin stripping off my shirt. Four was right, it’s well past lunch hour, and I’m famished. “Wait, what are you doing?” My head tilts to the sound, it’s the scrawny Candor boy.

“Changing.” I state.

“In front of all of us?”

“Would you rather I stand behind a pillar?”

“Well urm-“

“Drop it, Mark.” A different voice enters, another Candor male. “I’m sure she’s done far worse than stripping. I heard Amity likes it all out in the open.” I bit back the remark of ‘Says the Candor’, quickly replacing the brown pants with black ones. I dig out the photo of my dogs and I from my bra, straightening the edges where it became slightly crumpled. The photo is damp from my perspiration, but it isn’t damaged too badly. Slipping it under my pillow to keep it hidden, I straighten out my clothes and folded the Amity ones. Beside my trunk was a basket, I assume it’s for laundry. Four didn’t say anything about the clothes we came in, meaning that we were probably allowed to keep them. Dumping the bright clothes into the basket, I turn and head towards the door, ignoring the stares on my back.

Even being in the early afternoon, the mess hall is crowded with Dauntless. Climbing down the stairs into the hall, I did a cursory examination of the place. Jace and his friends were huddled together with the rest of the Dauntless born, talking loudly and laughing. I contemplate joining them as I reach for a tray at the buffet line. The food left wasn’t much, only a few pieces of chicken, steak and sides. I pick up a few chicken wings and an apple, since dinner was going to be in four hours. Grabbing a bottle of water at the end, I turn to look for a seat. A few tables of Dauntless were eyeing me, some even as bold as to point my direction before whispering amongst each other. I tense my back, deciding to eat at one of the empty tables by myself. Keeping my head held high, I move swiftly to the other end of the mess hall.

“Anna!” Dammit. Jace’s waving at me, gesturing for me to join him. If there were Dauntless that didn’t notice my presence earlier, they sure did now. I grit my teeth in embarrassment and turn to the Dauntless-born, plastering a fake smile on my lips. I wave away at Jace and point at the empty table I’m heading towards. The brunette frowns at me, face scrunching in confusion.

I continue down to the table, letting out a breath when I reach it without any more interruptions. Slumping into the bench, I pick up my fork and probe the soggy chicken, Dauntless could use a few tips from Amity. “You know, for an Amity, you sure don’t act like one.” A tray of half eaten food is placed across me, Jace slides into the bench.

“Maybe that’s why I transferred.” I say dryly, bringing up a chicken to my mouth. The chicken’s sweet; not as bad as I thought.

“So, where are the other transfers?” He changes the subject.

I shrug in response; I didn’t care about any of them. “Either acting like Stiffs while changing, or getting lost while finding the mess hall.”

“You’re mean.” Skylar laughs, placing her tray next to mine. “I like it.” Zack slides across her, nodding his head in greeting.

“They gave you a hard time?” Jace asks, picking up on my distaste.

“They tried to?” The reply sounds more like a question, I wasn’t so sure myself.

Skylar huffs, rolling her eyes. “Transfers, always so hostile among each other. It’s getting old pretty quick.”

“I am hostile,” I state blatantly. “and a transfer.”

“You are.” She replies, shoving a spoonful of mash potatoes in her mouth. “Yeah, well, you’re a different kind of hostile. It’s kinda funny.” I grimace. I suppose it’s a compliment; I think.

The rest of lunch passes by quickly. At one point, the rest of the transfers had trickled in. We watch as their faces fall at the lack of food left, sniggering when one of the girls tried charming one of the boys to hand over some steak. Didn’t work. The girl was trying to sway the bulky Erudite; he wasn’t amused.

With my tray empty, I tell them that I’ll be heading back to my dorms for a nap, due to the lack of things to do. Skylar asks if I want to go shopping at the Pit after dinner, saying how I need more clothes. As much as I am tired from the excessive amount of human interaction, I begrudgingly agree, she has a point.

Heading back to my dorm alone, I finally allow my shoulders to relax. My head pounds slightly from the events of today, it’s hard to believe that it was merely eight hours ago when I was still back in Amity. Arriving at the dorms, I slip out of my red tennis shoes, suddenly registering how stupid I must’ve looked with them. I pull off the pants and slip under the thin blankets, sleep immediately engulfing me.

* * *

By the time I wake, it’s almost dinner time. I look around to see that none of the other bunks seem different when I arrived, meaning that they must’ve been out at the Pit. Shrugging on my pants and retying my hair, I walk back to the dining hall, my head still pounding.

The dining hall is brimming with people as I enter. I scan the room and sigh when I realise that there weren’t any empty tables. Piling on some stir-fried vegetables and a roasted chicken thigh, I move to sit beside Skylar. The transfers were a few tables down from me, all eating quietly in awkward silence. Four’s at the end of that table, shovelling food with a vengeance. I think about whether I should join him, but ultimately decide against it. Having two conversations doesn’t makes us friends. The Dauntless-born chatter loudly amongst themselves, laughing at chucking food at each other. This time, Skylar and Jace don’t make an effort to talk to me, both deeply engage in hearing a story about a patrol member freaking out over a drifting plastic bag. I’m grateful, finally allowed time to myself without needing to converse. I don’t dislike them, but I don’t like socialising, dogs were much easier to be with.

My mind drifts to my dogs, wondering how they are coping when my parents arrived home without me. Perhaps they were fine, since Johanna will now be keeping them at her office, to take their minds off things. I worry my lip as I think about how my dogs will react as the days go by. They have never been separated from me for more than a day, ever since they came out of their incubation pods. Belgian Malinois and German Shepherds are breeds who often face separation anxiety. They are, after all, breeds prized for their unrelenting loyalty.

It’s the deafening sound of hundreds of banging cups that pulls me out of my thoughts. Looking around confused, Jace nudges me and points ahead. There on the balcony stands Max, head leader of Dauntless. Flaking him is Eric and another female leader, all three of them have block tattoos that go down their necks, disappearing underneath their collar.

The cups die down when Max lifts up a hand. “Initiates! You have chosen the warrior faction, and we welcome you.” I zone out of his speech, no doubt it’s the same one he says every year. Max drones on about the meaning of becoming a Dauntless member, I feel like I should be paying attention, but I can’t muster the will to. The transfers in front of me are beaming, eyes full of excitement, while Jace and the rest of the Dauntless-born are clinging onto every word he says, their posture speaks pure reverence for the head Dauntless.

I turn back to Max, he’s reciting the Faction manifesto, accentuating his voice to dramatize what everyone learned since primary school. Beside him, Eric stares straight at me. I’m suddenly struck with how he looks similar to the man at the fence. Short hair, muscular build, sleeveless vest. My eyebrows furrow as I quint. There was no way. Why would Eric be at the fence? The young leader’s gaze is unwavering, as if he’s staring straight into my soul. My heart picks up and I can’t help but break eye contact the moment Max’s speech finishes. Something churns uncomfortably inside me. I don’t want to associate myself with Eric, he screams bad news. I pray that the man at the fence was just someone who looked like him. Dauntless is full with muscular men, right?

* * *

Skylar brings me to the Pit, pointing out various stores and the items they sell. She talks animatedly, waving her hands as she points at various outfits. I can’t relate with her, especially when it came to clothes. Is this what a girl is supposed to be like? Back in Amity, I had identical sets of clothes: red pleated knee length skirts and mustard shirts mostly. I never saw the reason to waste time picking and choosing what to wear each day, it was and still is, impractical. Nonetheless, I still nod and politely smile at the bordering insane, Dauntless girl. She tries to shove skirts and various blouses at me, but I tell her that I’m still in training, making these clothes more of a liability than anything. She pouts and agrees, telling me that I’m safe till the physical stage is over, which is in two weeks. Finally having a say in my own clothes, I pick out a few plain tank tops, V-neck t-shirts and multiple pairs of plain capris leggings.

“You’re boring” Skylar moans, waving around some intricately designed capris, this one has cut outs at the calves. Seeing that they weren’t too far-fetched, I trade some of the plain ones for it. I also pick out a new pair of black tennis shoes, complete with a white outlining, as well as some sports bra and underwear. The cashier docks more than half of my points, eyeing the simple clothes in mild disappointment. Skylar seizes the moment to complain about my choice in clothing, having found someone to relate with; I roll my eyes.

By the time I arrive back to the dorms, my hands burn with protest with the bags of clothes and basic necessities I’m holding. I’m left with a quarter of points, should be enough to last through the week. Most of the transfers are already in the dorm, sitting on each other’s bunks and talking excitedly. I put my clothes away and grab some items for a shower, already tired.

I shower by myself, the water lukewarm. As I reach my bed with my hair dried, my eyes are already half-closed. I don’t remember if anyone came up to speak to me, if they did, I probably ignored them. I was out like a light the moment I pull the covers over me.


	5. Chapter 5

I’m the first one awake. My eyes crack open to only be greeted by darkness. Glancing at the clock on the wall, thankfully illuminated at the edges, it reads 7am. I had woken up with the sun, just like back in Amity.

An hour till training. Pulling the covers off me, my body is hit with unnaturally cold temperatures. I reach for my nose to find it slightly numb. _I hate the cold._ The fact that Dauntless was underground had slipped my mind, I don’t know why the freezing temperatures surprise me.

It’s moments like these that I miss Gunner, I never had a problem with the cold at night since he was always my leg warmers. At the thought of my dogs, I reach for the photograph under my pillow, grimacing when I creased it even more during my sleep. Moving silently to the edge of my bed, I tuck the image deep inside the trunk.

My hands freeze when water touches them. I brush my teeth quicker than I ever had before, rubbing my eyes in attempt to shake off the sleep. Creeping out in the dormitory, I fold my arms tightly around me, teeth clattering. I know my nose is red, just like it was minutes ago in front of the mirror. The temperature in the dining hall is just as cold as I woke. It is mostly empty, saving me from embarrassment, with a few members and Dauntless-born initiates eating breakfast before heading off to start their day. I blink a few times as I notice that all of them wear either sleeveless or short-sleeved clothes. Stupid Amity, stupid temperatures.

Settling with an apple, I walk off to the direction of the training room, hoping that running will help warm me up. I make a mental note to get warmer clothes tonight, the tank top and leggings I’m wearing makes me might as well go naked.

Four and Eric are the only ones in the training room when I enter, having a heated argument over something. Their eyes snap to me when they hear the door close. Four lifts an eyebrow at my entrance while Eric merely stares – all he seems to do lately. Eric’s eyes trail down my form, looking amused at how I hug myself. “Apple-picker.” He greets simply, his argument with Four long forgotten. I blink. Heat rises to my face as I glance at the half eaten apple in my hand. I don’t respond, since I would probably blurt out something unintelligent if I tried. I take a bite of the apple instead, praying that the apple’s skin would dull the colour in my cheeks and nose.

Four, noticing the awkward silence and realising that he can no longer converse privately with Eric, asks irritably. “Are the rest eating breakfast?”

“Urm.” I swallow, clenching my jaw to will my teeth not to clatter. The tip of Eric’s mouth curls to a smirk, finding joy in my struggle. “They were still asleep when I left.”

Four stares at me for a second then rubs his face. He mumbles incoherent curses about transfers under his breath. “Stay here.” He says already stomping out of the door, not before picking up a crowbar. The clock above the door reads 7:45am. Ah.

Dread suddenly fills me as Four’s words sink in, I open my mouth to protest but the door slams shut before I can utter a word. I keep my eyes on the door longingly, the idea of heading out to follow him floating around my mind mockingly.

Counting to ten, I suck a deep breath and turn to face the young leader, only to find him across the room with his back towards me, fiddling with some equipment. Maybe being alone with him wasn’t the worst thing in the world. “Apple-picker, tree-hugger or flower-sniffer?” I spoke too soon.

“What?” I say dumbly, mouth full of apple.

“Choose.” He replies, his back still towards me.

I move to throw the apple core in the bin, deciding that a run would definitely warm me up. “Anna.” I say.

“So she has a name.” He pauses for what I assume is for dramatic effect, or that he’s thinking. “Though, that wasn’t one of the options” He drawls. I stretch out the muscles in my legs, then bend down to touch my toes. “I think…” He starts back up, turning towards me and leaning against the table behind him. I narrow my eyes at him, stretching my arms as he stares. “I like all, the ones I suggested of course.”

Huffing, a scowl etches on my face. Eric grins widely at my reaction, his lips pull back to reveal two rows of illegally straight white teeth. “Whatever.” My legs start moving, falling into a rhythm that I’m used to before I transferred.

It’s only when I pass him does he speak up again, the shit-eating grin still on his face. “Don’t like it?” He says, I don’t look back at him.

“It doesn’t matter.” It’s the truth. Self-sufficiency is a part of the Amity manifesto, I learned from a young age to not care of what people thought of me.

* * *

Four comes back in with a scowl on his face to match. He chucks the crowbar to the side, eyeing Eric’s grin and my face suspiciously. He doesn’t ask about what transpired when he was gone, I don’t think I want to tell him if he did. I complete a circuit around the room, the light exercise doing it’s trick on warming my body up. _I should do this more often._ Slowing down, I move the where Four stands looking at a bunch of papers.

I feel it before I hear it. The floor rumbles as heavy footfalls lands, my eyebrows rise to my forehead as I hear the transfers running. They enter the room breathless. 8:02am. Most of the boys have their hair still sticking up in random directions, giving away the fact that they were only asleep minutes ago. The girls don’t look much better, hair in messy ponytails and faces pale. I turn away from them, cringing at their tardiness. Eric had moved to stand beside Four, arms crossed and chest puffed out, the smile replaced by a sneer.

The young leader reminds me of Gunner, when he tries to intimidate the cobras in Amity. Between the dog and snake, it’s always stare down, both too prideful to back off. Except, these transfers aren’t venomous snakes, and Eric isn’t trying to prove he’s the bigger Alpha male. He _is_ the Alpha male.

“Nice of you to finally make it.” He snarls. The transfers look everywhere but him. Some turn to glare at me, as if being early was now a crime. I school my features to feign indifference, deciding that Eric’s glowering is much more tolerable than the rest of my initiation batch. A moment of expected silence passes, no one daring to speak up or make an excuse. After a while longer, Eric nods once to Four, who’s been standing stoically through the exchange.

Taking a deep breath, Four waves us to follow him to the long table Eric was leaning against earlier. The table held handguns, all laid out neatly in a row, complete with a box of ammo on the side. “First thing you’ll learn is how to take apart one of these.” He picks up a gun and holds it high for all to see. “Then you’ll learn how to shoot.” He then proceeds to pick the gun apart, the transfers rush forward when they realise that he had started the demonstration. I stand to the side, watching his swift skilled movements. Eric’s on my left, arms still folded. I try not to fidget. Even silent, his brooding presence still screams danger.

When Four finishes, he steps away for us to practice. “Begin.” I don’t hesitate, Eric’s presence has been making me apprehensive. Picking up the gun, I turn it over my hand and weigh it. It was definitely heavier than it looks. I now understand why they come with holsters, my pants would fall off without them. Other than it’s weight, the parts of the gun are somewhat familiar to the images of the book I read up about them. Facing the muzzle of the gun away from me, I feel for the magazine release, a small button at the handle. Finding it, I push down; the magazine drops into my awaiting palm.

“Are the rest of you deaf?” Eric booms. My face twitches, but I somehow manage to supress laughter down. I glance at Four who has his eyes on the wall. I’m not sure if he’s trying to hold back laughter, or finds the grey-stained walls interesting. The initiates scramble to the table, some having to move as the stations nearest to them fills up. The bulky Erudite boy stands next to me, grabbing the gun like he’s done this before. I’m only halfway through pulling out spring and he’s already done. Eric moves down the line, grunting in approval as he eyes the dissembled gun of the Erudite. The boy smirks and stares straight at me. I don’t react, not giving him the satisfaction of my shock. Instead, I pretend to not notice, continuing as before. Four’s further down the line helping, face irritated when one of the girls manage to get the barrel stuck. I would be irritated too.

I repeat the process of assembling and dissembling the gun over and over, my arms aching from being held up so long. The Erudite does the same, only faster. He waits for the moment I start before he does, the sly smirk appearing each time he places the gun with an audible thump, each time seconds faster than me. My eye twitches in annoyance. _Don’t. React._

When Four tells us to break, my arms are about to fall off. Mark drops the gun onto the table, sighing in relief. Eric snaps at him, making the rest of us slowly lay it down. I shake out my arms as Four moves to a target. He explains his posture briefly before turning to fire thrice, all dead centre. This time, everyone immediately grabs their box of ammo, moving to the vacant targets. I’m forced to choose a place among the middle, the sides filling up first. The sickly Candor girl on my right and a boy on my left. I fill the magazine with the bullets, taking it slow since there isn’t a rush. I practice my posture before I fire, rehearsing Four’s advice in my head. The Candor girl shoots; it seems accidental. The recoil makes her stumble back, tripping over her feet and landing like a heap. My ears ring and I briefly wonder how I’m supposed to get used to this.

The first shot I make hits the outer-most ring; I cringe. The recoil isn’t too bad, so long as I relax my muscles. Tilting my gun higher, I try again. This time, it hits the third closest ring. It takes me one entire magazine before I’m able to hit in the centre ring. I smile in victory, my first true accomplishment of the day – since I kind of knew how to dissemble a gun beforehand. The girl beside me continues to struggle, only two of her shots hitting the target. Did she not listen to Four at all? I hear Eric snapping at one of the boys and make a split second decision to help her.

“Your shoulders are too tense.” I start awkwardly, I wasn’t used to helping people verbally, mostly through actions, like in Amity. Even then, I hated that the Amity were incapable of doing things themselves. The girl looks at me perplex. I stifle a sigh and move towards her, gripping her shoulders and repositioning her arms. “Try again.” She shoots before I have time to step back, making my ears pop from how close I am to her gun. I look away to glare at the target. She hits the fourth inner ring. Thanking me, I wave her off and stride back to my station, refilling the magazine.

Eric passes us as I’m pushing the magazine into the well. He doesn’t say anything to the Candor girl, who’s now consistently hitting the target. It’s at that moment I wonder why I helped her, an Amity trait?

After another thirty minutes of shooting, Four gives us a short break before moving onto the punching bags. He shows us the proper way to throw a punch, pointing out mistakes that are commonly made. I mostly zone out through his lecture, since I already knew how to fight. Eric left after the shootings, not before yelling at a few more people. The air became much lighter the moment he step through the door. I was watching Four as the leader left, his shoulders immediately sag. _There was definitely bad blood between those two._ The rest of training went by quickly, some of the initiates gathering some guts to ask if their form is right. The wimpy Candor girl sticks by my side, I don’t know if I like it.

* * *

When lunch hour comes, I sit by myself – exhausted and tired. I’m about to enjoy my peace and quiet when the Candor girl moves to sit across me. The twitching in my eye can’t be stopped. “Hi! Erm, thanks for helping me earlier…” She trips over her words; I do my best to stare blankly. Her voice is high-pitched and makes my ears burn. _Awesome._ “I’m Riley.” She settles, running out of coherent words to form. Her eyes are hazel and too big on her sharp face. She has a small nose and thin lips. I suppose she could pull off as looking cute. Her hair is tied in a neat ponytail, jet black as it reflects off the dim lights of the mess hall.

“Anna.” I start shovelling food in my mouth, a hint for her to stop talking, or better yet: leave.

She does neither. “So you practice beforehand or something?” She asks. I can’t tell if she implying target practice or bag-punching; I don’t bother to ask.

“No, not really. I just-“ I swallow thickly, catching a sarcastic remark at the last moment. _Listened to Four,_ my mind finishes for me. I clear my throat. “I read briefly that relaxing your shoulders when shooting eases the recoil.”

“I didn’t know Amity people read.” _Crap._ I’ve said too much. She seems genuinely curious though; my eye twitches again.

“Just because we pick apples all day, doesn’t mean that we’re illiterate.” I point my fork at her. Her cheeks turn red in embarrassment. “Plus, I only skimmed through the book, I kinda knew I was going to join Dauntless much earlier.” I add quickly, dropping my gaze to continue with my food. The Candors are perceptive, one long look at me and they might be able to tell I’m lying. I don’t know if the girl is bright, but I don’t want to find out.

She seems to eat my words, going back to her own food. My shoulders sag in relief.


	6. Chapter 6

"Your rankings will be based on your progress and fights, which starts in two days." Eric rejoins us after lunch, his face hard. "Dauntless only has a limited amount of space, therefore, we will only be taking in the top fifteen from initiation. Yes, this means that you'll be ranked with the Dauntless-born together." My fist rests on my mouth.

How much of an advantage do the Dauntless-born already have?

A boy lifts his hand up like we're in primary school – my points are on him being a former Erudite. "Yes?" The Dauntless leader eyes flash in expected irritation.

"But there are twenty initiates in total." The boy squeaks.

Eric lifts an eyebrow. "So?"

"What happens to those below fifteen?" Perhaps the lack of intelligence was the reason why he transferred.

The leader lifts a shoulder nonchalantly, like the news doesn't and shouldn't faze anyone. "They become factionless."

Gasps immediately fills the air. My face contorts to a wince, not at the news, but at the fact that I could've been them. "Why weren't we told this before?" An Erudite girl rasps in horror, the rest murmuring in agreement. Eric looks at me. He only grows more and more frustrated, which he definitely has the right to. Though, we wouldn't be in this situation if he didn't implement the stupid rule. Four stands near the punching bags across the room, face hidden as he reads through some papers. I give Eric a tight-lipped smile, which makes his brows furrow slightly, something other than malice filling his features. "Urm, Eric?"

The man snaps back to the girl, eyes narrowing. "New system." He says simply. "Unless you're aiming for below fifteen, I don't see what's there to worry about." Riley moves closer to me for comfort, her face turning to a familiar green. I regard her cautiously and take a small step back. Her lunch is probably only moments away from resurfacing. Four coughs, he's looking at me with a fist covering his mouth. "Any more questions before I continue?" Eric asks a little to sweetly. No one moves. "Good. Now, training will be divided into three stages: Physical, Emotional, Mental. Physical will last for two weeks, emotional will be a week and a half, and mental is the remaining. The cuts will be at the end of the physical and mental stages. Three and two respectively." With that, Eric leaves the room, not once looking back.

After the briefing, Four takes over. We spend the day learning about fighting techniques, an exercise I'm familiar with. I'm partnered with the Erudite girl who questioned the leader, the fittest among the three girls. I don't doubt that Four paired everyone based on their skill level; I'm grateful. The Erudite girl has dirty blonde hair. Her earlobes are also red, the maroon studs complimenting the soreness. The girl picks up on the techniques quickly, but she has yet to be able to take me down. I'm mostly on defensive, working on dodging her blows. She fast, but not as fast as my dogs. At one point she asks if we should swap roles, I tell her that it's fine. I see no reason to hurt her, and I don't, especially since this session isn't being scored.

By the time the clock reaches six, I'm cradling my head with a hand. My head spins from having to duck and twist for the past few hours. Four releases us, all the initiates heading out of the door while I stay behind to grab some water.

"You're expected to fight in two days." Four says. He holds his stack of papers against his chest, arms folded around it.

I rub my temple to ease the headache rising. Lifting the metal cup to my lips, I reply before taking sip. "I know."

His jaw ticks at my short response. "Your Amity roots are holding you back, continue on the defensive and you may become factionless."

I stare at Four. His statement angers me, for he had no idea what he's talking about. But above all, I don't understand his concern for me – if I assume that his intentions are pure. I am, after all, just another initiate. "I'll keep that in mind." I say stiffly, turning back to wash the cup and then placing it on the drying rack.

The instructor sighs heavily, rubbing his face like he's speaking to a stubborn child; perhaps I am one _._ His frustration is unsurprising, my lack of emotion and bluntness would put anyone off. He turns towards the door, taking a step past the threshold. "Well then, good luck."

* * *

The dining hall is just as crowded and deafening as yesterday. Scooping up some pasta and a blueberry muffin, I make my way to Riley. Between the rowdy Dauntless-born and the sickly girl, Riley would give me the silence I crave. Well, I hope she would.

The girl was dumbstruck when I drop my plate in front of her. I don't waste a moment before digging in, not looking at the Candor to discourage her from speaking up.

At one point of me gobbling down my spaghetti, the dining hall goes silent. I crane my neck to the door in curiosity. Eric stands at the entrance, giving the place a cursory glance. His eyes stop at my direction briefly, but that could just be my imagination. "This always happens when he enters." A male voice whisper beside me. My body jerks violently at the unexpected intrusion, knees knocking onto the table. I groan in pain, no doubt a bruise already forming. Jace sits beside me, his food half eaten. I glare at him as he puts up his hands defensively. I'm not sure how long he's been sitting beside me. Skylar and Zack are still with the rest of Dauntless-born; their conversations starting back up.

"Right." Riley is staring between me and him rapidly, her brain trying to put the puzzle pieces together; whatever they are.

"Are you-" She starts.

My mouth immediately moves to intercept her. "This is Riley." I introduce, plastering a smile for good measure. Jace's face brightens as he introduces himself. The pair immediately kicks off in conversation; Riley glad to finally have someone to ramble to. Taking it as my cue, I excuse myself, grabbing my tray and disposing the wastes.

I spend the first part of the evening at the Pit. Remembering the absurd temperatures at night, I pick out a zip-up maroon hoodie with the Dauntless symbol in white at the back. I also buy another blanket and a pair of ear plugs, for future target practices. The cashier informs me that I've ran out of points for the week; I pray that I won't need anything else.

Making a detour to the dorms to drop off my items, I head back to the training room. The clock only reads 8:30pm, which is still early enough to hang out with friends, but I really rather not socialize. The training room is just as empty as I left it, flicking on a single light in the middle of the room, I start jogging in a steady pace.

I think about my dogs, like I always does when I'm alone. My heart squeezes in my chest. I miss them. Flashes of my dogs playing in the fields cross my mind, Hawk and Sabre wrestling each other on the grass. Sabre would always win, with him being bigger, faster, and stronger. The only time Hawk ever wins is when we move through the trees. The sandy dog will jump on me as leverage before running up the tree. Most of the time when that happens, Hawk will bark at me as a heads-up, otherwise I will suffer a scratch from being knocked into the ground face-first. Sabre gets pretty frustrated when Hawk does that, considering that the he has only mastered fence leaping. Sabre and Hawk are inseparable, both of them bring out the puppy side of each other.

How would they adapt to life here at Dauntless? There are no railings and a slip could result in them plummeting to their deaths. Dread begins to fill me as I realized that my plan wasn't as thought-out as it should be.

Would Max even agree for me to import the dogs over? I've yet to see a single animal here walking around in the Dauntless compound. I can't figure out if that's because pets are banned or people just don't want them.

_No._

I shake my head, an attempt to rid my thoughts. Thinking about the dogs and all the ways everything can screw over makes me depressed, and I didn't come to Dauntless to be depressed. My legs start to burn from running and I suddenly feel stuffy. I strip off my tank top, leaving me in my sports bra. The removed material makes the air cold around my abdomen and chest. It'll do.

Focusing on the burning sensation on my legs, I continue to complete circuit upon circuit, one step over the next. More than an hour had passed since I started, a fine sheen of sweat coats my body. I wipe my face, the tank top in my hand damp.

"Training ended four hours ago." A voice rumbles around the room.

I jump out of my skin, immediately recognizing the owner. I nearly collided at a table as I skid to a stop, heart beating even faster than it has been. When did he even enter?"Eric." Amazingly, my voice is even.

"Tree-hugger." I don't turn to look at him, choosing to head to the water dispenser. I'm not sure if it's because I'm afraid to see his face, or that I'm afraid that he'll see mine – panicked and red. "Why are you here?" There's a shuffle of footsteps.

My grip on the cup tightens in my hand as I fill it with water. I click off the faucet and finally turn to face him, feeling slightly calmer. Eric stands below the light, saving me from the embarrassment of having to locate him in the dark. His arms are crossed and he wears his sleeveless vest. The handsome leader has an eyebrow quirked up, his microdermals reflecting off the fluorescent beams. "Running." I bring the cup to my lips; the water tastes sweet.

His eyes don't hold the hostility during training, but I can't place what he's thinking. He hums in response. "You know…" His eyebrow smooths down. "You're the first initiate I've come across who trains after hours." Eric's voice is deep and rich, something that I could listen for hours, regardless of what he's saying.

I enter the light, stopping a few feet in front of him. Eric scans my outfit in less than a second before locking his gaze on mine. How _honorable._

Perhaps he's taken; the possibility makes my stomach churn irritatingly. "I'm glad I'm making an impression then." I say. Eric cocks his head to the side, he looks just like the man on the fence. I blink a few times. The Erudite in me reasons again that a leader doesn't have any reason to be at the fence. But still, the resemblance is uncanny.

"Which leads me to believe that, you're doing more than just running." The gears in his head shifts, calculating. I straighten my spine to stifle my surprise; he notices. "If I didn't know any better, I would say you're trying to forget something."

My face tenses before it can go slack in shock.

Eric, a person I've only spoken twice to, has already worked out the reasons behind my actions. Either this man is truly ingenious or very observant – which I highly doubt since he knows pretty much nothing about me.

I don't break his gaze. On one hand, I want to snap that it's none of his business; but on the other, I want to confide with someone about all the sorrow that's been building up ever since I left the ones I love. A wave of despair flows through me.

I miss my dogs _._

Most of my time in Dauntless was spent reminiscing about all the moments I had with them: the training, the playing, the chasing, the hugging, the sleeping. These dogs mean everything, and I left them. Nothing was ever enough to keep me from thinking about the four-legged trio; not shopping, not eating, not showering, not training. My mind continuously betrays me as it strays back to my past. My heart clenches painfully at the thought of my dogs providing me comfort in situations like these. But they're not here.

So, my body does the next best thing: cry. My eyes start stinging and I look away. I suddenly regret grabbing the cup of water, because it prevents me from making a speedy escape. Eric's still staring; I no longer know what he's thinking. Anger? Concern? Disgust? I wait for him to reprimand me for still clinging on to my old faction, but he doesn't. Yet, I want him to. I want him to force me to stop missing them, to stop thinking about them.

Screw it, I'll bring the cup back tomorrow _._

I side step around him to move get to the door, but he shoots out with hands large enough that they encircle the width of my forearm. He doesn't turn to face me, his front facing the opposite direction as me. A moment passes between us, I don't move to speak up, neither does he. Finally, he sighs, at the loss for words. Loosening his grip, I dash out the training room with tears glistening. I'm glad he didn't speak, for I don't think I could've held it in if he did. I don't look back.

I spend the night wrapped up in my hoodie and new blanket like a cocoon, the other blanket added for good measure. That night I dream about my dogs and the fields – a life I left behind.

* * *

**A/N**

**Sorry for the late update, had a writer's block. :P**


	7. Chapter 7

My opponent is Mark. I squint at the chalkboard, recognizing no other name except Riley. She's up against a guy named Cole; I don't think she'll win.

It's the first day of the fights. We spent the morning at the rooftop, the handguns swapped for rifles. I wasn't particularly good at firearms, but at least I wasn't the worst. Yesterday was uneventful, Eric didn't appear during training at all; not that it matters of course. Four showed us more fighting techniques on the bags and on each other; I continued on defensive. I couldn't care less for what the instructor thought. Last night, I still went back to the training room; not just to forget, but also as an act of stubbornness. No one was going to stop me from doing what I want, especially not Eric.

So here we are, huddled together as we find our opponents. My match is the last, while Riley's the second. Eric makes an appearance for the fights.

He probably enjoys watching us get our asses handed to us.

He's as brooding as he always is: chest puffed and arms crossed, the block tattoos on his neck proudly on display. He calls up the first pair, the two Erudite girls. They nervously move to the center of the ring, a round beam of fluorescent light illuminating their forms. The girl I've been paired with during sparring sessions now has red velvet hair to match her earrings. It provides a good contrast to her pale complexion. She pulls her hair into a bun and shakes out her arms. _Smart._ Her opponent is a bronze-skin girl with curly hair, a few inches taller than me. The girl seems slightly anxious on having to fight her friend, rubbing her arms and scratching her neck. I wonder if Red would take advantage of her hesitation. The mat below them doesn't look as soft as I hope, so it'll probably hurt to take a fall.

"Some ground rules." Eric says, his voice demanding the attention of everyone. "Other than don't kill each other, the match stops when one of you can't continue." Four's silent beside him, distain is clear on his face as he reads blank papers. That's something I can relate to.

None of the initiates question him, but Riley turns into her iconic green. "Go." The match starts. I move to stand next to Riley, smiling comfortingly as if it'll ease her worry. The initiates watch the first fight unfold, which consists of the girls circling each other. I observe the instructors instead, knowing that their reactions were far more riveting that what the girls had to offer. Eric snaps at them at one point, telling them that if they wanted to walk in circles, they should've gone to a merry-go-round. I force my fist into my mouth to keep from laughing. The girls blush in embarrassment.

The fight ends with Red as the victor. Ruby, her name is. I should've guessed it the moment I saw her earrings. Ruby drags the unconscious girl out of the mat with Four, her nose dripping with blood. Disgusting.

"Riley and Cole." Eric announces. I pat the pale girl's back, telling her to give her best. She barely nods, stumbling over to the mat. Cole's the bulky Erudite. He sneers at her, making her cower. My face scrunches to a scowl. The moment Eric gives the signal, Cole doesn't delay to throw a fist to Riley's face. The girl squeaks as she registers his incoming punch, only managing to dodge it because she fell on her ass. Riley crawls away as Cole lunges for her. I'm proud that she successfully dodges two hits, even though unintentional. When she gets back on her feet, the both of them start playing a game of cat and mouse. Though, Riley is a horrible mouse. Within a minute she gets tripped, landing heavily onto the mat and yelping. Cole immediately takes advantage of the situation, sending a kick to her ribs. Riley, understandably, screams.

I should bring along my earplugs during fights too.

Cole doesn't stop, he continues to send blows to her ribs and stomach. A flash of hot anger flares through me and my eyes narrow.

He's definitely doing this on purpose.

Cole of all people knows the methods to knock a person out, yet he continues to prolong the pain.

Eventually, Riley passes out, indicated by the halted screams. I should go help the battered girl off the mat, but I can't. All I see is red. Blood rushes to my head while Four hauls the girl to the side, ordering Ruby to bring her to the infirmary. Riley's right eye is swelling, a large blue-black spot on her cheek from the final kick. Every muscle in me tenses as Cole moves off the mat with a bounce to his step. His companions are patting him on the back in congratulations. Eric turns to look at me and I can't stop myself from glaring back at him.

This is his _fault_ _._ If it weren't for his stupid rules, Riley would be right here standing, maybe only sporting a bruise here and there.

The next fight takes slightly longer, since the boys were evenly matched. Ruby returns without Riley; I'm glad she's getting the help she needs.

As the boys' fight edges towards the end, I start taking deep breaths. I need a clear mind if I'm going to fight. I do my best to ignore the blood that's spilled all over the mats. Everything's too brutal. By the time one of them gets knocked out, I'm slightly calmer. Cole drags the more injured guy off the mats and to the infirmary – orders from Eric. As much as I am still pissed at the sadistic leader, I'm grateful that he got that wretch out of my sight.

"Apple-picker and Mark." I climb onto the mat, grimacing at all the blood around me. Mark has a smirk on his face. Does he actually think that he can beat me?I cock my head and quirk an eyebrow. I decide that I don't like him. "Go."

Mark, much like Cole, immediately throws a punch to my face. I easily side-step away from him, making him stumble forward from the lack of contact. There wasn't much of an audience, just the instructors, Ruby, and the guy who just won. _Good._ Mark continues to throw punches and horribly-aimed kicks, all of which I duck or side-step easily. His actions are far worse than when I trained the dogs when they were puppies. At least they were slightly faster and less stupid-looking. Mark leaves his entire body unguarded, too frustrated at his futile efforts to see that he's leaving himself open. I don't seize the opportunity; I need to burn energy anyways. At one point I manage to sneak a glance at the instructors, Eric is impatient while Four seems worried.

"Fucking bitch." Mark curses out, clearly exhausted. I blink a few times before my eyes harden.

After all that I've...

My arm pulls back automatically and I aim a clenched fist towards his face, irritated with his pathetic hits and attitude. Perhaps taking out my anger on him isn't so bad, he is clearly no better than Cole.

One punch, and I'll break his nose.

My lips quirk at the thought. I send it forward, my fist coming at such a speed that Mark doesn't have time to block or dodge.

He squeezes his eyes shut, accepting his fate. It's that moment of weakness that stops me in my tracks. Maybe it was the fact that he looks like Riley moments ago: hopeless and afraid. My fist stops short millimeters from his nose.

I am not Cole.

My hand falls away quickly as my breathing starts to pick up. I am not Cole; I am not Cole _._ Mark opens his eyes in confusion, realizing that the impact didn't come. I stumble away from him, eyes blinking. He yells out in fury as he launches to me, another amateur punch coming towards me. Instead of moving out of the way, I merely twist myself and grab his arm, yanking him forward. He loses balance, the way he throws his weight around becoming his downfall. My free hand reaches out and chops his neck, right at the carotid sinus. My opponent's eyes instantly roll back and I catch him before he slams into the mat. The whole ordeal lasted less than three seconds, though it felt like minutes.

With Mark passed out on the ground, panic suddenly fills me. I stagger off the mat, knees going weak. The sound of my increasing heartbeat pounds into my ears. I was so close to losing control. Strong arms catch me right before my legs give out.

Four's saying something to me, but no words register other than the sound of blood rushing in my ears. I almost lost control and I knew that if I had, Mark would be in a far worse state than Riley. I sag against Four as he drags me to the ground, my mind unable to form any thoughts other than fear. I'm lying on my back, yet my head still spins. I clench and unclench my hands, both of them clammy and too icky for my liking. Four's blurry face enters field of vision, his mouth still moving with no sound coming out. My lungs struggle to suck in air – as if someone placed me in a vacuum. I almost lost it.

Eric's the next one to enter my vision, he shoves Four off by his shoulders, barking off what I assume are orders by the way his face turns a very noticeable shade of red. He turns back and grips my face in his large hands, lightly slapping at the sides.

* * *

"Tree-hugger! Tree-hugger!" I blink a few times as I focus on the man. "Hey! Hey! Keep your eyes on me. Get back here." The slate blue in his eyes are barely noticeable, his pupils completely blown out. His eyes are wide and wild, darting all around my face. He continues to call me 'tree-hugger', his voice getting more rushed and alarmed as each second passes where I don't response. Panic is an odd emotion on him, I don't know if I like it. Maybe I do, Eric's kind of cute when he isn't glaring. The person of subject shakes my shoulders, which seems to do the trick as I knock out of my daze. I take a deep breath and jolt up, air rushing into my lungs again. "For fuck's sake, don't you ever do that again." I feel around my neck, the pressing force dissipating already. I cradle my head in my hands as I moan, a headache already forming. _Heck._

After taking a few more deep breaths, I register that I'm still in the training room. My head shoots up to scan the place, causing a sharp pain. The training room is deserted. When did everyone leave? I turn Eric and find him kneeling beside me, still looking slightly flustered. "Thanks." I grunt. I feel gross and dirty from being drenched in my tank top of sweat. Definitely in need a shower.

"I think I get why other flower-sniffers don't transfer to Dauntless, are they all like you?" Eric says exasperatedly, running a hand through his hair. The mess he made only makes him look hotter.

"Like what?" His question can be interpreted in a few ways.

"Freaking out after hurting someone." He says flatly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

My eyebrows furrow. After hurting someone? What's he going on about? I take a moment to recall the events that led up to this, rubbing my temples as my head still pounds _._

I suppose from their perspective, it did seem like I had a panic attack after knocking Mark out. "I wasn't freaking out over knocking Mark out." I say quietly. "He deserved it." I add a bit too harshly.

"Then?" He tilts his head to one side, completely perplexed.

"I was panicking because I almost lost control." I don't know why I tell him that. The revelation probably seems weak in his eyes, since he never stopped any of the fights. "I didn't want to be like Cole."

Now it's Eric's turn to frown. He opens his mouth, contemplating on saying something, but ultimately decides against it. "I'm glad you didn't." He finally settles, referring to the part where I almost lost it. His blue eyes still hold confusion but he, thankfully, doesn't speak his mind. I don't expect him to understand. "Just, try not to freak out after every fight." He pauses, swallowing like he's never done this before - whatever this is. "You still have a couple more to go."

I scoff and childishly roll my eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

Riley makes an appearance on Saturday – two days after getting beaten into a bloody pulp. She looks better. The bruise on her cheek had faded to a dirty yellow, along with the swelling in the eye going down. Since most of her injuries are under her shirt, she appears to be fine. The doctor said she has three crack ribs and one broken one, but if she's in pain, Riley sure didn't show it. In fact, her face has been bright and cheery the whole time I've seen her. _Odd._

We are visiting the fence today, something about learning the different job aspects. I doubt it. If we were 'learning' about different jobs, we would be visiting other areas of Dauntless as well, not just the fence. _Probably a scare tactic._ The three instructors join us, as well as the Dauntless-born. Boarding the train was a slightly difficult task, thanks to Riley. Jace helped with the ordeal, pushing her onto the train while I yanked her up. Most of the other transfers had a difficult time as well, with the exception of me, Cole and Mark. _Lucky bastards_. I decide to help Four out after Riley. He's been managing the other initiates, which he's doing a fine job at, but he's quickly losing land to run on. The instructor gives me a grateful smile when I yank a Erudite girl into the car, giving him just another second to pull himself in. The Dauntless-born – except Jace –, Mark and Cole are in the car ahead of us, seeing that they had got on much earlier.

The train ride to the fence is mostly silent, excluding the loud pants of the injured initiates. I sit close to where Four is standing at the train's door, hanging out slightly as the wind rushes past him. Riley tries to strike up conversation, but I tell her to rest; not because I care that she needs to recover, but because I don't want my ears to burn from her shrill voice. The Candor accepts the excuse, staying silent for a few minutes before turning to Jace and blabbering out how comfy the infirmary beds are. I swallow down the irritation that's bubbles in my chest and decide to move to the train door next to Four. I copy his movements, grabbing the handle the leaning forward. Unlike him who grabs it with one hand, I wrap my forearm around it, not trusting my strength to carry me. The honey-skinned man doesn't say anything, a flick of his eyes the only acknowledgement I get. The train carries us to ground level, the ruins of buildings slowly getting sparser. Vegetation starts taking over, trees become denser and denser as the train travels. Occasionally a flash of orange and red passes by, Amity. People carrying baskets wave at us, as if we're good friends. Their bright smiles only irritate me more due to the lack of true genuineness.

By the time we arrive near the fence, the trees had disappeared, revealing the vast grasslands and fields. The train stops this time, since the tracks has run out. Everyone piles out of the train, some stretching their limbs from the stiff ride. It's the first time I'm this close to the fence, and it's colossal. The concrete wall that fades to thick metal bars and platforms intimidate me, reminding me a rock-giant. The fence seems to stretch to the sky. _Please don't make us climb to the top._

The initiates split into three groups when we reach the third platform. The height makes me dizzy and nauseous, like I might fall if I look directly down.I probably will.I don't let go of the rails when Eric leads us down the walkway, my vision trained solely on his back. The leader has a slight skip in his step, something only noticeable when you stare at him long enough. His hands are in his pockets as he strides, shoulders missing the tenseness they always came with. The initiates are looking around in wonder, though I don't see what's so special. There isn't much to the fence, since every part is pretty much identical. I peer over to where they are looking, trying to figure out what's so interesting. No avail.

At one point, Eric stops us to explain what the Dauntless does at the fence – which isn't actually much. "Those ranked below ten will most likely end up here, so I would suggest you familiarize yourselves here in case you land the job of fence duty." He sounds distracted at the end with his voice trailing off. Some of the initiates pale at his comment, their ranks probably falling into the category of mention. Like Eric, I'm too distracted to allow the information to sink in. I turn to follow the man's gaze, there's a guard walking up to him. The guard is nervous, eyes cast down and scratching his neck awkwardly.

As the men converse quietly, I turn to look at the fields. I recognize it instantly – it's the field where I spend every evening. A spark of hope blossoms in my my dogs are out here playing. My eyes scan for any signs of life, nostalgia clawing at my chest. After spending much longer than necessary, my heart sinks. _Why would they even be here in the morning?_ My face falls at disappointment and my foolish thoughts. I sigh.

"What?" Eric snaps. I curiously peer at him, as well as the rest of the initiates. He turns to glare back at us, making the initiates turn back to study extremely interesting fence and even more interesting fields. It doesn't work on me.

The man in front of him is cowering, swallowing thickly as he paws at his collar. "W-well..." The guard doesn't get to finish his stutter before Eric wraps his hand around his throat, pushing the man to the wall.

"What?" The leader asks in a quieter tone, deadlier. I can't see what he looks like, since his back is turned towards me, but his shoulders are back to being tensed. The young leader's biceps are bulging and taut, proudly displaying all the effort he's put in to maintain his physique. Even angry, he's absolutely delectable. The guard starts turning pink, hands clawing at the unyielding grip of Eric. He wheezes something inaudible to my ears, veins becoming more prominent on his face from the lack of blood. The ruthless leader takes a long deep breath and releases him like the guard had burned him. The assaulted Dauntless crumples to the floor, gasping for air. Without wasting a second, the guard scurries away, clothes rumpled and legs stumbling over each other. Eric stands facing the wall, fists clenching and unclenching. The rises and falls of his back are very prominent, an indication of him either trying to calm down, or becoming angrier. I wonder what the guard told him to cause such a reaction, it's the first time I've seen him this aggravated.

The walk back to the train is silent, all initiates in my group climb down the steps as quiet as possible. _That never works._ One of them trips, boots slamming into the metal steps. The Dauntless-born catches himself before he tumbles forward, eyes wide in horror by what he had just done. He only has a second to recover before Eric comes up to his face, snapping and telling him that he should go back to nursery if he can't even walk properly. The juvenile grows red in embarrassment, forcing out a 'Yes, sir!" before nodding with an exaggerated amount of force. _Is he saying yes to nursery?_

* * *

All the initiates fill up the front carts, having pick up Eric's foul mood immediately when we gathered to leave. I squint at the sardine-packed people, deciding if I should join them. Four and Eric move to the last cart, with Four probably wanting a break from the transfers. _Or a death wish._ I think about Riley's squeaky voice and Jace's constant blabbering, it's as if my ears bleed at that thought. The train starts moving, not willing to wait for me to make a critical decision. Brief panic fills me at the thought of being left behind, making my legs go on autopilot. I reach out my hand to grab the cart containing everyone, the handle gleaming in mockery. I miss it by a hairsbreadth.

_Well then._

I grab onto the last cart's handle, using my weight to hull myself into the cart. I land on my stomach since the train is moving much faster than normal, pain rips on my front from the impact. A groan escapes my mouth as I flop onto my back, panting like a dog. _Stupid trains and their impatience._ Four looks down at me with brows furrowed. The view reminds me of when I had my panic attack, except I can see him clearly this time. His eyes are dark blue, a beautiful, dreamy color. I take a moment to appreciate his visage, sharp jaws and slightly hooked nose. He has a sparse upper lip and a full lower one, accompanied with straight eyebrows. His ears stick out slightly, reminding me slightly of a . I wonder if he has a girlfriend, he's quite the catch. "You're crazy." He snaps me out of my checking-out session.

I stare back at him unblinking. "Thanks." Knocked out of my trance, I move to sit up while he shuffles away. I re-tie my ponytail and move to hang my legs out of the train. The trees are coming back into view.

"Didn't want to hang with your friends?" Four asks. I'm surprised; never took him as one for casual conversation. The instructor's sitting a few feet away from me in the car, he has an arm wrapped around his knee as he leans against the wall.

"They talk too much." I say.

"You don't seem to have much tolerance towards people."

I shrug nonchalantly, but I'm shocked he noticed. "People are annoying and complicated." _They honestly are._ "I rather not have to deal with them." I add.

Four chuckles and shakes his head, his laugh is rich and genuine. I can't help but smile. "How did you even survive Amity?" He's confused but definitely intrigued.

"There are people I can tolerate!" I whine. _Do I seem that bad?_ "Just like... four people." Four lifts an eyebrow, and I belatedly realize my implications. "No, I'm serious! It isn't a joke!" He doesn't seem convinced, but doesn't say anything. His mouth is pulled to an amused smirk, one he should wear more often. My nostrils flare in fake annoyance. Speaking to Four is refreshing, not that I'll admit that out loud.

It only takes a few moments of quiet before I'm suddenly aware that we aren't the only ones in the cart. I look past Four before turning to the other side. Eric sits in the cart as well, he's staring at me with eyes half-hooded, but it appears to be unseeing. The leader is calmer now, his outburst from earlier now taking a toll on him. His slate blue eyes are dull, the burning fire and spark gone. The change in mood makes him look years older.

 _Despondent._ That's the word I describe Eric as, and it weirdly makes my heart tug with sorrow. His shoulders are sagged and his breaths are shallow. I don't like the way he looks, it's as if he gave up on life; and I hate it.

Before I can register my actions, my feet are already moving. They stop short to his left and my body drops as I take a place beside him. I don't know what I'm doing, but I rather do this than continue to watch him lifeless. I shuffle close to him till our arms touch. Eric doesn't respond, doesn't tense, doesn't move. I'm not sure if he realizes if I'm even next to him. The logical side in me demands for the reason behind my actions, but I don't know them myself. My fingers becomes numb and my limbs weigh me down. I feel cold knowing that he's like this.

We sit in silence.

Then, it's almost like I didn't feel it but I do: he leans against me.

* * *

The moment I hop off the train, Skylar and Jace rushes to me. The deranged blonde picking and examining my arms, checking for things I'm not sure what. "Where were you!" She exclaims. Jace is just as worried as her.

"Huh?"

"The train started moving and you weren't in the car! One of the Dauntless-born said they saw you reaching for the handle. We thought you were left behind!" Jace is the next to shout, waving around frantically. Zack stands quietly beside them, shrugging his shoulders when I look at him pleadingly.

"Oh, urm, yeah. I did miss the car. So I went to one behind." I say. My heart swells a little at knowing that they care about me.

"You mean the one with Four…. and Eric?" Riley enters the conversation.

I nod. The Candor's face starts draining of color. "Yeah…?"

"And what did they do to you?" Skylar asks, taking a step back after seeing that I sustained no injuries.

My mouth opens but I pause. _Do I want to tell them that I conversed with Four and lean with Eric on the entire train ride home? Do the instructors even do that with the other initiates?_ Something tells me no. I blink at her and clear my throat. "Nothing."

"Nothing?!" All four of them are ?

"I thought Eric would've snapped at you. He seemed pretty ticked off when we left." Jace trails off hopelessly, answering the question in my head.

"Oh, urm-" I'm saved by Four's impeccable timing. He calls everyone over and tells us that we have the rest of today and tomorrow off. I mentally send him a note of thanks, hoping he would get my message even though my face was blank the whole time. All the initiates starts talking excitedly over each other, making plans for the weekend. Four also tells us that our points replenish on Sunday, and that our ranks will be posted on Monday. My group starts suggesting to spending tonight in the Pit. I nod along absentmindedly. My mind drifts to Eric. He had gotten off the train with the same expression as when he got on. It amazes me to no end on how he's able to flick he emotions on and off. He hadn't said anything when the train was started to slow, only standing up and hopping off after Four. _What did the guard say?_

"You coming Anna?" I blink. "To the Pit. There's a party happening tonight." I stare at Jace, who has this hopeful expression on his face. Well, Skylar and Riley has the same expression too. Parties are pretty frequent back in always encourages the people to celebrate nothing and everything. Something about spreading good vibes – I can't relate. Amity parties mostly consist of dancing in big circles and playing musical instruments. I doubt Dauntless parties are anything like that. Since the dogs, I never attended the parties in Amity, choosing to stay out late in the fields to play instead. "Pleaseeee? You should try loosening up."

I take in the hopeful faces again. He's right, Ishouldloosen up. "Alright." Skylar squeals, making my ears burn. Dread already begins to fill. _Is it even possible to regret a decision before even knowing the outcome?_

* * *

I vow to never agree with my – I don't even know what to label them as, friends? – again. No matter what.

It's only past dinner and the Pit's swarming with people. Drunk people. I no longer hide my scowl as people bump into me, pushing and tripping over their own two feet. My friends have disappeared, not before downing a few shots first of course. I stand in the middle of the Pit like an idiot, just like how I've been ten minutes ago. A server with shaved green hair manages to push herself between the sea of intoxicated people while balancing a tray of drinks. I don't know her, but I respect her effort. She offers me a glass and I take it just to make her efforts seem like they paid off. Accessing the amber liquid that's in my hand, I squint before sniffing it. The smell burns my nose, making it scrunch up. Amity never had alcohol, since everyone's already too high to even need it. The only reason why I somewhat recognise the smell is because of chemistry class in school. There's a single large piece of ice in the cup, making the drink cold in my hands.

"It's scotch!" Someone slurs the words a little too loudly in my ear. "You should try it!" I turn towards a drunk man, he has blond hair and is only a few inches taller than me. The man stares at me hungrily, his eyes pausing at my chest longer than deemed appropriate. "You're kinda hot, wanna dance with me?" He's already dancing before he finishes, his chest bumping into my shoulders like a pounding headache, which is already beginning to form. He looks like an idiot; it takes me a tongue between my teeth to stop me from voicing it.

My lips turn down in distaste. "Sure. Hold this for me?" The man's eyes brighten, hand eagerly stretching out the grab the glass. I do my best to appear seductive. Turning fully to face him, I slide my arms up his chest and lean close to his ear. "Wait here."

I pull away and shoot him a wink, waving my fingers as I move into the crowd. The man, who I learned reeks of alcohol, continues to stare greedily while sipping the scotch. My nose scrunches in disgust. By the time I'm a decent distance away, I shove myself through the crowd, giving no fucks about anyone. I spot Jace with a girl pushed to the wall, his back is towards me while he makes out with her. Riley. I think about telling them that I'm leaving, but ultimately decide against it, slipping out of the Pit.

The hallway back to the dorms is empty, since everyone is out partying. I grab my hoodie and dig for the photo in my trunk, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. Doing my best to recall the way back to the net, my feet carrying me swiftly away from everyone.

* * *

The moon is full in the empty night sky.

I sit with my legs hugged around my knees, finally at peace. There's a single light source coming from the stair enclosure, a long beam of white light. My head is craned up. The stars are out tonight, easily visible from the lack of clouds. It's been a while since I've seen the night sky, enjoying it now makes me realise how much I miss it. The wind howls softly beside my ears, as if whispering stories to me. I wonder how the dogs are doing. _Are John and Johanna managing them well? Does John bring them to the fields every evening?_ I pull out the small image from my jacket's pocket. The girl in it seems to be mocking me now and I'm suddenly struck that I haven't had a good laugh since I arrive here at Dauntless. A sinking feeling and nostalgia settles at the pit of my stomach, a feeling I've grown accustomed to during my time alone – which is most of the time. Sabre's fur glisten in the fading sunlight, his silver fur black at where the coat conforms to the creases of his skin. I wonder what he would do if he sees me now. _Will he jump into my arms and start licking my face? Or will he hunch by my feet, whimpering and whining because of how much he misses me._ I think about Gunner, how he's the one most attached to me. Among the trio, he would take my absence the worst. His whole life practically revolved around me. _What about Hawk? Will he find ways to escape John's watch to run back to my house?_ He's the smallest and smartest, I would be surprised if he didn't. My thumb trails down his fawn fur and black mask, if I think hard enough, I could feel his fur underneath me.

The crunching of gravel alerts me of a presence. I'm about to turn but a pair of cargo pants-covered legs stop beside me, folding and lowering the person to the ground. "Aren't you supposed to be inside partying." Four.

My mood deflates to mild disappointment. _Why am I expecting Eric instead?_ "Been there, done that." I reply.

Four stretches out his feet in front of him. He seems relaxed tonight; his instructor posture gone, revealing a man of his age. "What's that?" He asks. I turn to look at him and find his gaze on the card in my hands. I hesitate. _This is something no one in Dauntless knows about, do I want to confide in him?_ I think about all the interactions I've had with the instructor, never once did he hold any malice towards me. He seems to be a good man, one with . _I suppose that if there's someone I had to trust, it would be him._ Sucking in a deep breath, I pass him the photo. Four knits his eyebrows together first, unable to see through the dark. He lifts the image higher, where the glow of the light reflects off the image. It takes him a few moments to stare, but eventually his blue eyes soften and he turns to me. "You looked happy." He says.

My gaze finds the moon, I don't want to look at him. "I was." I agree.

"Then why did you leave?" The million dollar question I ask myself every day. Why _did_ I leave? Sure, I didn't like the general population of Amity, and I didn't like the peace serum, but I didn't mind it before I left, so why did I leave? My mouth goes dry. _I don't know._

Yet, if thoroughly thought about it, I do. "For peace." I say. To the Dauntless male, I must sound like a lunatic; I probably am. Amity _is_ the definition of peace – metaphorically. But yet, Amity isn't.

"Pardon?" My resolve solidifies, and I no longer avoid his gaze.

"I transferred, for peace." I say. I don't repeat my words slowly as if he's too stupid to process it, because Four isn't stupid. "Peace is hard-won, sometimes it is necessary to fight for peace." The phrase comes from the Dauntless manifesto, recognition and shock fills his face. "There's something brewing. I'm not sure what, but something's about to happen." I should feel horrified for revealing my intentions of transferring, but I don't. I trust him. "I've always dreamed of becoming Dauntless, something about the fighting and guns makes it seem like an fulfilling life, one with no regrets. But the dream is foolish, a child's daydream. Dauntless believes in shouting for those who can only whisper, in defending those who cannot defend themselves. And I came here to do just that." I stun myself. This revelation has never came across my mind. Well, not in the way I just put it, but I still meant every word. _Who would've thought that I would've memorised the manifesto? Certainly not me._

A long moment of silence passes, the words sinking into our minds, dissecting and processing.

Four opens his mouth, then closes it. There's something he's hesitating to say. _Is he deciding whether to trust me?_ A few more seconds pass, then he speaks up. "Eric's in the middle of it." Four says quietly.

"And Max." I add. Four eyes widen. "My parents are ambassadors remember?" I pause to swallow. "They've been noticing the food hoarding reports on Abnegation and the visits between the Jeanine and the leaders. I'm not sure what they are, but the secrecy means that it's not something good."

The instructor's jaw grows slack at my knowledge, not quite believing that a peace-loving initiate is aware of what's brewing beneath. "It isn't." He shakes his head to get out of his daze. "From what I gather, they're building an army. The new initiation system was placed to remove the weak, so building an army isn't a very far-fetched idea. This system forces brutality, especially in stage one." I think about Cole, how Eric didn't move to stop him when the Erudite took it a step too far.

Sighing, I rub my head, all the possibilities makes my head hurt. "I don't want to think about it, maybe once we have an idea on what's going on, then we can discuss it." Four agrees, a welcomed silence blanketing over us again. Four remains beside me, looking up to the sky to watch the moon. His presence is nice, not suffocating like my friends, I wonder if he enjoys being alone as well.

"He's fond of you, Eric." My eyes flicker to him briefly.

"I never took you as one to care for their enemies." I say. His statement doesn't surprise me as I'm not oblivious, it only confirm my suspicions. Eric treats me differently with than the other transfers. Though not obvious, it's there.

"You're right. But he when he's around you, he throws me off."

"How so?" I don't understand.

Four turns to me, entertained by my baffled appearance. "Back at the train. Was it anyone else, I don't doubt that he would've shove them away."

Ah."He seemed depressed." I shrug, I would like a comforting presence too if I received unpleasant news.

"Don't forget the time when you started hyperventilating, he was more concern over you than that girl's condition after the fights." He laughs darkly, not quite believing the events of that day. "It's the first time I saw him anxious."

"His expression was pretty comical." I agree. "But you were panicking too." I point out.

Four huffs and rolls his eyes. It's nice to see him like this: the man of his age. "It's not every day I get an initiate panic-stricken after winning a fight." Blood rushes to my face. "Which, by the way, what was that all about?"

That's how the rest of the night went, both of us rotating between idly talking and enjoying the quiet night. We talked about everything and nothing. I tell him about my life back in Amity, my dogs, John and the training my mom gave me for preparation. He doesn't offer much about himself, and for once, I didn't mind being the one to talk.

I arrive back to the dorms that are mostly empty, feeling like the weight of homesickness has been lifted off my shoulders. It's well past midnight. I shower and slip into bed with a smile on my face; it feels nice to finally confide in someone.

Tonight I made a friend – my first one for at least a decade.


	9. Chapter 9

For once, I wake up without feeling the need to head to the training room. The clock reads 7am. Everyone's asleep, so I do the same.

When I wake again three hours later, I'm energetic. I wiggle out of my cocoon and move to sit up. All the initiates are in their beds, some of them in odd angles, all except Riley. Her bed is untouched. My eye twitches. _Ew._

I get ready for the morning with nothing in mind. I practically skip to the mess hall, humming a song to myself. It's a good day. The hall is mostly empty; _this day couldn't get any better._ Grabbing an apple and chocolate cake that Jace recommended, I munch on the food by myself, thinking of absolutely nothing. Last night surely did the trick, I no longer feel wistful when thinking of my dogs. _Is that what friends do to you? What have I been doing my whole life?_ The cake is delicious; definitely something I won't mind eating every day.

The mess hall door opens and my acquaintances walk in. They all seem hungover, nursing their foreheads and eyes droopy. _That's my cue._ I stand from my seat immediately, making a beeline for the exit when they move to the buffet line.

An idea crosses me as I skip my way to the Pit, so I enter the tattoo parlour. An oriental woman with dreadlocks introduces herself as Tori. Describing the tattoo I want, she draws it out, making edits here and there. I'm a little picky, but she seems happy to serve me, saying that my love for the dogs is refreshing and how she's never met someone like me. She starts drawing the image onto ribs and I'm full-on rambling to her. I'm describing my dog's appearances and how cute they are, like a teenage girl speaking about her crush. Tori's really entertained by my blabbering, the smile on her face unable to disappear. I leave out the whole chunk of how they have been trained to attack of course. I'm in the middle of telling her how I play with them when the needle starts pricking my skin. My voice immediately dies as my eyes squeeze shut. _The Dauntless must be crazy to go through this every time they want to embed ink into their skin._ Tori apologizes for the lack of warning, saying how she didn't want to break my happy bubble. _Yeah, well, she broke it nonetheless._

I manage to wheeze out an 'I'm fine.' She tells me to ignore her as she continues. I refrain from snapping at her that one doesn't _just_ ignore the constant jab of needles. She has been nice to been the whole time, no need to let my emotions get ahead of myself. I take her advice and try to start up a ramble. Only a few words manage to escape before she goes 'Yeah, try not to speak. Talking makes the ribcage move.'

I spend the next hour gritting my teeth in agony. By the time she's done, everything's sore by how I tensed every muscle in my body. She covers up the tattoo with a bandage, passing me some ointment and explaining how to care for it. The ointment speeds the healing process to a week, I mentally scold myself for not waiting it out another week before getting inked. In my earlier bubble of happiness, I had completely neglected the fact that there was still a week left of physical training. _Dumbass._

I move my jaw around before I manage to formulate a 'thank you', lower jaws aching from being clenched. She removes a small portion of my newly-replenished points, I thank her again.

My next stop is the hair salon. The shop is too bright for my liking, almost every counter is brimmed with mannequin heads of all hair colours. A female hairdresser with red hair attends to me. I do my best to not grimace at her mohawk. She works on my hair with deft movements. It takes me a while to fully relax on my seat, but eventually I do. My points are docked by half when I'm done, mainly because of how elaborate it is. The hairdresser compliments me on my choice. I thank her and start heading out of the salon, a grateful smile plaster on my face. I can't muster the will to compliment her back.

* * *

My acquaintances manage to catch me during lunch. My mood has dropped considerably since the moment I woke, so staying with them doesn't make it any worse than it already is.

"I like your hair." Skylar comments. She slides into the empty bench across me, Zack by her side.

I'm about to reply: 'I like it too.' But I catch myself at the last second, realising how stupid it would sound. "Thanks." I say instead. Riley and Jace sits to the right of me, whispering something to each other. "So, um, how was last night?" I attempt at conversation, feeling uncomfortable already.

"It was great! You should've seen Jace, he was dancing on the table tops shirtless!" Jace whines something in protest, his brain belatedly registering that there are more than one person on the table. I rub my face to cover my eye that's twitching, Skylar is rambling about how the party went and the embarrassing things her friends did. I listen in mild interest, nodding when I'm supposed to and forcing out a laugh when the rest do. Lunch passes by slowly, my head starts feeling heavy.

A familiar silence blankets the hall, I supress the urge to perk up my head. Skylar and Jace are having a debate on the best dark colours. I don't even know how the topic came about. Eric's at the buffet line, he dons his iconic sleeveless vest and black cargo pants. I sneak glances at him every now and then. He takes a seat on the table in front of us, alone. At one point, his eyes find mine. I can't look away. He seems slightly pale today, cheeks hollowed and posture tired. I'm not sure if he's hungover or had a rough night, not that I would like either of the answers. Eric still doesn't look away as he starts eating his food. I have an urge to ask him why he always stares at me, but I do the same to him. And I can't answer that question myself. He's a pretty face to look at, sadistic tendencies aside. _Does he find me attractive then?_ My neck heats up at that thought. I swallow thickly. Eric's eating a piece of steak, causing my tongue to unconsciously darts out and lick my lips. As if expected, his eyes darken considerably. I take a sip of water.

"Why is Eric staring at you?" An new unfamiliar voice enters, it's Zack's. _For all the times he could've spoken, he chose now?_

The water lodges itself in my throat, I start choking. "Pardon?" I rasp out. _Great. One night with Four and I'm already sounding like him._

"Eric, he's sitting in the table behind me. He's staring at you." Now everyone on my table is looking between him and me. _Awesome. Just. Flipping. Awesome._

My brain tries to evaluate the best path of escape. I couldn't tell them that I don't know, cause Zack would probably call me out for staring at him as well. But I couldn't tell them anything else that wouldn't have a loophole. I start mumbling a few curses under my breath. _Stupid boy who decided he wasn't going to be mute today. Stupid Zack._ I sneak a glance back at the young leader to find him still watching at me – unabashedly.

He _is_ the guy at the fence. There was no denying it now. Fear suddenly courses through me. _Eric is the guy at the fence._ The puzzles begin to click in place; there was no way he wasn't. Eric lifts an eyebrow questioningly when I tumble out of my seat. I pick my tray up with a hand, but then it starts to shake, so I grab it with my other. "Sorry, I gotta go." I excuse myself quickly, blood in my veins turning cold. Everything makes sense now: his reaction to the guard at the fence, the spot he brought us to. He's upset cause I wasn't at the fields every evening, like I was every day. He's looking for _me_.

"Anna?" Jace stands to follow me. "Anna, Anna, hey!" My steps don't slow. I dump the tray with the others and toss my cutlery, momentarily thankful that I cleaned everything on my tray when I was eating. "Anna, slow down. Was it what Zack said?" My steps falter briefly. _Of course it's what Zack said._ I want to scream at him, maybe throw a tray for good measure. I am panicking and fuming. If his friend didn't open his fat mouth I would still be ogling Eric, and him me.

But _no…_ Zack opened his mouth, and everything clicked into place.

"I want to be alone." I finally say, facing to Jace to show him that I wasn't crying.

He's confused; I don't blame him. "Okay, just er, come talk to us when you feel better or something." He scratches his neck awkwardly. I manage a small smile and dash out of the hall.

* * *

I don't know what to do.

I'm confused. I'm angry. I'm conflicted. So here I am, doing what I know best ever since I left my home: taking it out in the training room. The bag sways violently each time I take a swing, but it doesn't do enough to distract me. Pain rips at my side from the stretching of the tattoo, yet it still isn't enough.

The man was – is Eric.

Eric, the man who's been conspiring with Jeanine.

Eric, the man who introduced the cut-system and no-conceding rule.

Eric, the man who doesn't bat an eye when Cole took it too far.

Eric, the man who seems to like staring at me.

Eric, the man who panicked when I broke down.

Eric, the man who never once scolded me, not even for sparing Mark.

Eric, the man who sought out comfort in me, because of me.

I sigh. I don't know what to do. The bag is smeared with blood, no doubt from my split knuckles. I cringe when I lift them to my face, they look horrible. My arm aches and my shoulders sag, drained out mentally and physically. The layer of sweat around my body should make me feel accomplished, but it's more of a nuisance now.

The water only makes my hands sting, I hiss. _I should probably head to the infirmary._ Walking down the hallway, my mind begins to dissect the situation. There are a few conclusions I draw.

One.

Eric's response to the guard shows that he has been keeping tabs on me. He must've been watching me for more than once, otherwise he wouldn't have cared if I disappeared. His dispirited mood from the train implies that he's developed a bond with the girl in the fields. As much as this made sense, it also didn't. Why would a sadistic Dauntless leader, associate himself with a happy-go-lucky Amity? Eric doesn't seem to be the type to like them, and I doubt he does. The young leader is the epitome of brutality and Dauntless, not that I've actually seen him fight.

Two.

Eric doesn't know that the girl is me. If he did, he would probably be acting differently, elated maybe. After all, the girl he's been stalking pretty much fell into his arms – willingly. I think back on how he hasn't connected the dots. My attire in Amity was always mustard shirts and red knee-length skirts. I didn't come to Dauntless wearing that. _Plus_ , my hair is always tied except when I sleep. But, even if he can't put the two and two together, that still doesn't explain his tendencies to watch me. He doesn't do the same with the rest of the population, at least, I think he doesn't. _Why me?_

The infirmary smells of antiseptic and floor-cleaner. I'm just thankful that I found it after only being here once to get the mandatory shots. The nurse examines at my hands when I show them to her, her face screams disapproval. She questions the reason for my wounds. Apparently it's a known fact that Sundays are rest days for initiates. I do my best to answer truthfully, except for the part of why I was there.

Four's at the door of the infirmary when I exit. "You alright?" He asks. He glances at my bandaged knuckles questioningly, eyes moving back up to meet mine.

I start heading back to the dorms, I need a shower. "How did you know I was here?"

His nostrils flare in amusement. "I work in the control room, saw you exiting the training room earlier." _Huh._ "There are motion detectors, so I'm informed when someone enters and exits the training room outside of the normal hours." He continues.

 _I bet that's how Eric first found me._ "Ah." Four strolls beside me, his thumbs stuffed in his pockets and relaxed. He looks good like this, when he isn't all instructor mode. Scratch that, he looks good either way. "I learned about something during lunch, had to find a way to cool off."

Four stays silent. I'm glad that he doesn't push. "Your new hair suits you." He comments. Unlike earlier, this time, I smile. My espresso brown hair has been dyed balayage, the dark tone fades out silver and blonde streaks. The idea came as a whim, a sudden thought to honour my dogs. I look up at him and smile, this time it's genuine. The colours I chose don't scream Dauntless, but I won't have it any other way.

"Thanks." The walk back to the dorms is quiet, and my mind finally feels at peace. I'm thankful that Four showed up. He has knack for calming me, even if unintentional.


	10. Chapter 10

Today marks one week since I split my blood over the coals.

I'm the first initiate to the training room, just like every day since I came. Eric's absent. And for once, I don't yearn for his presence. Four's writing out our ranks on the chalkboard. His writing is chicken scrawl, not that I'll tell him that. I suppose I miss Eric's handwriting then.

My hand moves to cover my lips that have been pulled between my teeth. I can barely make out the name 'Anna', which stands next to the number three. Four places the chalk on the ledge, pleased with his work. The names are barely decipherable, most of them either lopsided or uneven in size. He had attempted to make the words cursive, intentionally adding a curve or tail at the end of the alphabets. His hands are on his hips, head strained up towards the board in complete utter pride. Four's stance makes laughter bubble up my throat and I choke on my saliva. I turn away immediately and face the door, coughing and wheezing for reasons other than clearing my throat. By the time I face the instructor – which was a few minutes later – he's full on glaring at me. "Find something funny initiate?" He growls. I can't take him seriously.

"No sir." I clear my throat and attempt to keep a serious face. The twitch in my cheek betrays me.

"Good. Now, unless you want to do it yourself, I suggest you keep your mouth shut." There's a slight playfulness to his tone.

"I may take you up on that offer." The instructor eye rolls.

* * *

"Knife throwing." Four announces, flipping the blade around his hand in attempt to look intimidating. It seems to work, with the metal glinting in the light as he twists; Riley can attest to that. Knife throwing is something I'm good at, since steak knives were available for practice back in Amity. Mom said that this part of training is mostly pointless, more of a way to impress others than to be used for fighting. I think I disagree.

There are three knives in each station, mostly black with silver at the edges. I pick the one on the right, feeling it in my palm. It's only a little heavier than the steak knives I practiced on. The design is sleek, though the handle looks slightly worn from years of use. I wonder if I can smuggle the knives into the tactical vests of my dogs, especially when I head out in the future.

My first throw hits the centre of board, but since it's the handle that collided, it bounces pathetically onto the floor. Riley openly gapes at me. I'm the first one to hit the board, and it's my first try. Cole is on my other side looking ridiculously pissed off. His knife hits the air, landing mockingly a feet away from the target. _Ha._ My second one hits the exact same place as the first, but my lack of strength results in it clattering to the floor. _Right, wooden board, not hay bales._ I twist the third one in my hand. I wonder if they sell these in the Pit. _Do Dauntless even carry weapons in the compound?_ My face scrunches in thought. _That would be dangerous right?_ I think about the fights I've seen occur in the Pit when passing by. _But Dauntless is dangerous. Maybe I'll ask Four._ I pull my arm back to throw the last one. It sails faster than the previous two, thanks to my added force.

Dead centre. The 'thump' it creates makes the room silent. It's a noticeable sound, since its very different from the clanking of metal hitting concrete. A shit-eating smile spreads across my face, one that can compete with Eric's. _Feels good._

After being bored out of my mind of hitting dead centre, with each knife too crammed to make way for another, I start to make patterns. At first I wanted to spell out words, as the task will occupy me and the result will be rewarding. But after close inspection of the board, I realize that my work wouldn't stand out among the other cuts in the wood. So, I decide to throw at different angles, trying to see if I can get the knife to tilt a certain way.

The other initiates are doing well, I think. No one has hit bullseye yet – other than me of course – but at least some of the knives are sticking on the board. Cole practically has smoke coming out of his ears. His face is red and his arms are tensed. Maybe he doesn't like being beaten by a girl, an _Amity_ girl to be exact. None of Riley's knives have stuck to the board, and it's been well past half an hour. I don't know how to tell her that she lacks the strength to do it, she's the most mousy one among all the girls. Sometimes I wonder why she even joined Dauntless. The Candor obviously has no experience with handling anything the training program has thrown at her. Perhaps she regretted choosing Dauntless from before, but now she seems to get along just fine, especially with Jace. A bit _too_ fine in my opinion.

Eric comes storming into the training room after 45 minutes of practicing. It's amazing to see how Four's mood deflated – not that he was happy before. Eric looks enraged, his signature scowl on his face. He marches over to the other end of the room, with the stations furthest away from me. I keep my head low, currently helping Riley reposition herself after I grew frustrated by her lack of results. I don't try to meet his gaze, for the fear that he'll see right through me.

The leader stops at every single station, yelling and berating each initiate for their lack of skill. Four stands quietly behind me and the mousy girl, as far as possible from the crazed bull. I think he finds solace in me teaching Riley; specifically my irritation as I do so, judging by how he's hiding his smile. "Use your arm to generate the force, not your wrist." I say for the third time. Riley lets go of the knife; and for the first time, it sticks to the board. My knees almost buckle in relief. I have half the mind to demand she seek help from her boyfriend, she's his problem, not mine. Instead, I muster my best artificial smile and urge her to keep going. She appears to find it convincing. _Maybe she wasn't cut out for Candor after all._

At one point, one of the Erudite girls starts sobbing, probably the one who isn't Ruby. Eric's barking suddenly becomes deadly quiet. I assume that he's whispering something in her ear, since I can't tell. Riley's face drains of colour as she watches, gulping. I glance at the my wooden board, the three knives are in a straight line that cut vertically down the centre. _It won't do._ I stride forward quickly pulled them out of the wood, throwing them slowly into the chipped-out centre before repeating the process. _Please don't say anything._

The only reason why I know the rabid dog is close is the way Four shuffles away, moving to the other end of the room. _Traitor._ I have a well thought-out theory for Eric's livid mood: Today is Monday, which marks one week after the ceremony, which also marks a day after I saw him at the fence. Judging by the way he wasn't at dinner – no, I wasn't looking for him at all – he was probably at the fence. At the same spot, at the same time. If this were true, then it means that he finally believes that the guard is right, that the girl is no longer there. His anger can only be explained by the five stages of grief. Since denial has passed, he's now in anger. Of course, this whole speculation is based on the assumption that he _did_ go to Amity yesterday and that he _is_ the man on the fence. There is still a _small, teeny_ possibility that the leader just woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

"How are you still not hitting the centre, initiate?" I jolt from my thoughts. Eric's hissing to Riley.

"I-I-"

"Have you not been here for almost an hour?" Riley gulps and looks to his feet, Eric's back is hunched towards me. He's speaking to her like a child, with his hands on his knees. "From what I've seen, you've been getting help too." A shiver runs down my spine. _He's been watching me._ Riley makes an audible gulp. "So… either she's a horrible teacher – though her skills prove otherwise – and is purposely ensuring that you'll be kicked out by the end of the week… or you're just incredibly stupid… Which is it?" He tilts his head.

On another day, hearing those words should make me laugh, especially the way Riley squirms, twisting her hands like a child who's been caught stealing the cookies. But, I do want to know the answer. Riley has not particularly been a friend to me. If I look at it objectively, Riley has taken advantage of my false kindness. Her relationship of Jace is because of me, her competence to shoot is because of me and her ability to throw is because of me. Never have I ever ask her for any favours or help. What is she to me? "I don't expect silence initiate, I expect an answer." Eric's voice is deadly low; he speaks to her as if she's a retard.

"I-um." I don't understand Eric's intentions. _Is he merely trying to embarrass her or is there more to it?_

"So she's trying to edge you out of Dauntless?"

"No!" She blurts out. "Anna's been nothing but of help to me." She looks straight into his eyes as she says it. For once, she's confident and sure, like a true Candor. _Perhaps she sees me as her friend._

"Then?"

Her head falls back to the ground, the strong woman now gone. "I'm just." Her neck strains as she swallows. "I'm just incredibly stupid."

Just like that, the mood shifts. "Good." Eric straightens his back, no longer invading her personal bubble. "Fix it." He takes a step closer. "I don't know if you're too dense to realise it, but tree-hugger over there is an initiate, just like you. And unlike you, she owes you _nothing_. You don't listen to Four when he teachs. And _still_ , she holds your hand at every step of the way." I'm stunned. "So, if I ever see you act so _selfishly_ again," He spits out the word like it's sand. "I'll see you out of Dauntless myself."

 _Whoa. Is this what Riley has been doing?_ It suddenly dawns on me that maybe she stood next to me on the first day _because_ I'm from Amity. Because she _knows_ that eventually I'll give in to help her. I think back to the first day. I did reach the station before she did. She must've known that unlike her, I know what I'm doing. My confidence and lack of hesitation must've hinted her that I'm someone who would do well. I grip the table to steady myself, suddenly glad that Eric blocks her from seeing most of me.

_Do I feel betrayed?_

_No. No, I don't._ This is the reason why I stopped making friends. It's back to primary school all over again. It was when I was eight where I learned that my friends were not my friends at all. They took advantage of my brains, something I inherited from my dad. They used me, knowing _full_ well I'll help them because of my Amity origins, just like Riley now.

My back straightens, replicating Eric's. Riley nods, there are tears brimming her eyes. I can't bring myself to care. _Is this why she accepts my smiles as genuine?_ Because she knows that whether I like it or not, she'll still get the help she needs. Eric walks off, satisfied after driving his threat home. Riley looks up to me pleadingly, like what he just said was a lie, like she isn't just using me. I don't know what to believe. So I do what I know best since I was eight, _I pretend_.

Eric exits the training room after that. I'm not sure if he looks back, for I fight the urge to see him. Knife-throwing resumes. Most of the initiates improve. They are more determined, albeit slightly shaken. Even Riley lands an occasional bullseye. She tried explaining to me, but I wave it off and said that I didn't believe a single word the demented leader spat out. Johanna would be proud of how Amity I'm being. One definite good thing that came from the whole exchange is that Riley no longer asks for help. I'm bored, but at least I'm no longer frustrated. I decide to take up the idea of spelling out a name using the marks I create when throwing the knives. The end result isn't obvious, but it's there. It spells 'Eric'.

* * *

Our second fights commences after lunch. I'm up against Ruby. Just like Mark, I give her time to showcase her punches and kicks until she's burnt out before I yank her and hit her carotid sinus. I grab onto her waist before she falls, waiting for Four to help me get her off the ring. Eric doesn't make an appearance for the rest of the day. Everyone's pretty thankful over that. Riley loses to one of the boys, she isn't as badly injured as last time when I pull her off the mat. I don't extend help to improve her combat skills.

After training, I decide to stay behind to continue, a late dinner would help me avoid the Dauntless-born. Four doesn't stay behind – not that he should – informing me that he has a shift in the control room after dinner. I don't mind.

There is truth in Eric's words. Looking at it in hindsight, everything makes perfect sense. However, I don't believe Riley is this scheming. Riley is Candor, not Erudite. Though it is possible to fake facial gestures, one can't fake your face flushing into different colours. So perhaps her intentions aren't _totally_ evil. Maybe she's just a girl who needs help and takes advantage of me with no hidden agenda or ill intentions. After wasting minutes of my life pondering on the possibilities, I decide that I don't want to think about the mousy sickly girl anymore; she's not worth getting a headache for.

My thoughts move to Eric. He somewhat stood up for me. I doubt he has done to same to anyone, much less an initiate. My heart flutters and blood rushes to my cheeks. _He's really sweet._ My hands go to cup my face. _Really sweet._ I'm giddy like a fool because people don't stand up for those they don't care about. The fact that Eric Coulter did it, means that there must be more to it.

There's no denying it now; _Eric Coulter likes me._

I'm about to start skipping and spinning around like an Amity on peace serum but I don't. _Or maybe he hates weaklings._ My shoulders slump. It's a huge possibility; maybe he hates people being unable to stand on their own two feet. This sounds like the malicious side the young leader is known for, which makes it a very high probability. It too, is a more logical reason. I groan and facepalm myself in defeat.

I break into a run. Events of today aside, I still had to address the elephant in the room. That is: Eric being the man on the fence. _Should I tell him?_ But what good would it do? Would he question how I knew it was him? He might find out about my divergence, since only an Erudite would be able to piece such information together. Is divergence a problem though? My parents have warned me about it, which led them to tell me how to get a Dauntless result for my amptitude test. They didn't tell me who I'm supposed to hide this information from. The Erudite side of me says that it's probably Eric. He's working with Jeanine, and dad tells me Jeanine is a little queer and paranoid to begin with. The Amity side says that Eric would never hurt me, even if his orders are to kill any divergents he finds. But the amity side, is the foolish, naïve side. Just because the young leader is fond of me doesn't mean he'll go great lengths to protect me. I could just be his newest infatuation.

I won't take the risk, especially when the stakes are high. If Eric decides to hunt me down for my divergence, I'll be letting down my parents, Johanna, John and all that've helped me. _My dogs._ Never mind not seeing them again, but how will they continue once they realise that I'm never coming back? There's only so much peace serum John can give them, having them live off it for the rest of their lives is torture to my eyes.

 _I won't tell Eric._ But I can't continue on like nothing's changed either. It eats me up inside to see him suffering and doing nothing about it, especially when I am the cause _and_ the solution – I hope. The five stages of grief ends with acceptance. I'll just have to hope that I can ignore him till he reaches there, then everything will be fine.

I pray it will be.


	11. Chapter 11

My plan of avoiding Eric was working, until Four screwed it up.

You see, I was having a really decent Thursday night's sleep, curled up in my warm man-made cocoon in darkness. Training has been going well. Riley doesn't ask me for help anymore – not that she ever did – but now, she's been paying more attention to Four's teaching. I reconciled with my acquaintances over lunch and I'm tolerating them a little bit more. Zack apologized, though I bet he has no idea why he should. I don't answer the question he had asked, and the rest don't bring it up. The real reason for my reconciliation was not because I felt lonely, rather it's because I need a distraction. It's _kind of_ mean, but what's new? Ignoring Eric is not a very difficult task, all I needed to do was to think about how cute and smart my dogs are instead. I don't meet his gaze; I don't perk up when he walks in. _Easy._ An added bonus is that he's been absent more than not, so it's not like I have to be on guard each time. He seems angrier each time he comes to the training room though. Stage two of grief – anger – is really taking its course, so there's that.

So, back to my lovely sleep. It was wonderful, until it was cut short. Four enters the dorm with his crowbar in one hand and torchlight in the other. He then proceeds to bang the piece of metal on the wall with an _unnecessary_ amount of force, yelling for us to get our asses up. Was this how the transfers felt on the first day? Cause it really sucks. As if the banging wasn't enough, the infuriating instructor proceeds to shine the torchlight in each one of our faces, burning our eyes. The light stayed longer on me and judging by how the torch bounces up and down, it suggests that he's laughing at my cocoon. Or my hair. _Screw you._ That's my best attempt of mentally yelling at him through my fuzzy brain. He informs us that we will be going on a field trip and to be at the train within ten minutes. _It's one freaking am._

Five minutes later, I'm at the train platform. I don't need much to get ready, just wriggle out of my hoodie and blankets, tie my hair, pull on the shoes, drink some water, and I'm good to go. As usual, I'm the first transfer there. The Dauntless-born are there too, all excited and talking loudly amongst each other. Four and Eric stands to the side, piles of black bags below their feet. I stand at the middle, in my skin-tight v-neck shirt and capris. It's too flipping cold; screw me.

The train arrives right before my legs freeze over. We pile into the train, some of us carrying the bags the instructors brought. I move to stand near Four, since he's considerably large and emits heat – heat being the keyword.

I don't recognize this activity, maybe they didn't have it twenty years ago.

"War games." Four reaches to the inside of his jacket. _How smart of him to wear it._ "It's like capture-the-flag." At that, he pulls out a neon orange flag; it burns my eyes.

"It _is_ capture-the-flag." Eric snaps. My brows fly up my head and I purse my lips _._ _Isn't he just lovely_? Eric pulls out a gun, which sure doesn't look like one. It's an odd shape; constipated. "Shoots neuro-sim darts. One shot of these will feel like an actual gunshot, only difference is that you don't bleed to death." _Huh._ I manage to locate Riley's face among the sardines – its pale. I do my best not to snicker. Four explains the rules in little detail, because there aren't any rules really. The guns get passed around and soon it's time to split the teams.

This is where he screws me over.

"You go first." Eric says. _Thank the heavens._

Four glances down at me, then places his fingers on his mouth, deep in thought. "Cole." I blink. _Did he just-_

"Tree-hugger." Eric doesn't hesitate, like picking the Amity is second-nature. My eyes widen in complete betrayal. _How could he?_ I tense my entire being and walk stiffly to Eric. Four coughs into his fist, no doubt to cover his laugh. _To think that we were friends._

I don't hear the rest of the team splitting, only the blood hammering in my ears. Mild irritation at the somewhat betrayal of my only friend only builds as the minutes tick by.A string of incoherent curses spews out of my tongue. _Who appointed him as cupid?_ My team hops off first; I don't miss the chance to send Four a well-deserved glare.

* * *

Jace and Zack are with me, as well as pig-head Mark and red riding-hood Ruby. The night air is frigid. _Why did I not think of bringing my hoodie?_

Oh right, because I didn't want to risk dirtying it and going without it for a night. I make a mental note to buy another when I get back. _If_ I get back.

The journey to the trees results in me tripping over twice; at least I'm not the only one. I try sticking close to Jace as a heat source, my teeth clattering and arms coated in a layer of gooseflesh. Tonight, Jace doesn't talk; at least the gods are answering some of my prayers. Regardless, he still isn't warm enough.

"Ideas?" Eric snaps irritably after a few heartbeats of silence. It doesn't take another moment before the initiates burst into conversation, everyone throwing out ideas while berating the previous ones. Jace moves away from me to join the circle that formed. Survival instincts kicking in, I sidle up to Eric, arms folded tightly over myself and gun slung across my back. He won't try anything. We stand a good distance away from the arguing teens. Their voices are already beginning to tire me. Eric's pretty warm, much warmer than Four and Jace combined – not that I was keeping track.

At one point, Mark suggests an idea to place the flag somewhere on the trees. It's a stupid idea; Jace seems to agree. "They would see it from a mile away you idiot!" _True._

"The leaves will block it!" Mark protests.

"Yeah well, I don't know if you haven't noticed, but it glows fucking green!" A Dauntless-born girl snarks. I can't help but snicker.

"Time's running out initiates." The man beside me says warningly, getting tired of their futile antics.

An idea comes to me; it spews out of my mouth before I can think it through. "Why don't we hide it under the dock?" Black blobs turn to me – well I think they did – and I gesture at the rotting wooden platform.

Mark pipes up. "But-"

"That's the best idea I've heard so far." Eric cuts off. I doubt he had even listened to the other ideas; I know I hadn't.

"It's on the ground, making it hard to be seen from above, as the buildings will block out the glow. The planks will absorb most of the light too." A cold wind blows. _Heck._ "Plus" Clatter. "We can" Clatter. "Ambush those coming by hiding from in the trees and buildings." I swallow. "And." More clatter. "There's only one way for them to-" Eric wraps an arm around my back and pulls me to him when my teeth clatter again. For once, I'm glad that the night practically blinds everyone, for it hides his arm and the redness in my cheeks. "come get it. Since it's surrounded by the sea." I finish stiffly.

Everyone agrees with my plan, splitting hastily between offense and defense. I'm stuck with Eric on offense. I suspect his glaring was the one that made it such. _Since when can one see a glare_? No one notices his arm around me, or that I'm basically glued to his side, everyone's just too excited to head out and shoot each other. Not good.

* * *

I'm slightly warmer and a good distance away now, since we are lightly jogging – and tripping – around the Pier looking for the other team's flag. Jace and Ruby are the two that follows our group, all of us silent with fingers over the triggers. It is obvious that the Pier was once a magnificent place, glass and buildings with white-washed walls lay either half standing or in rubble, telling of a better time.

The walk between the streets is quiet and boring. If only Hawk was here, I could boost him as he runs up the walls, gaining a high vantage point to look for the other team's flag.

 _Or I could do it myself._ A ladder hides itself in the shadows, just the tip of the wooden edge peaks reflects off the moonlight. "Wait." The group stops and turns to me. I walk over the ladder and heave it out, leaning it against one of the balconies with the top of the building missing the roof. "We need to figure out where the other team keeps their flag, otherwise we'll be here all day." The ladder wobbles beneath me, worn with age. The building I'm on isn't the tallest, but it'll make do.

"Beneath the Ferris Wheel." Eric beats me to it. _When did he get up here?_ "Find the others and tell them, we'll meet you up ahead." I can't see the two initiates, but the likelihood of them currently nodding is high. The implications of his words only register into my brain after their footsteps fade into the night. I suck in a deep breath, and take a step towards the ladder.

Yeah, not happening.

Eric intercepts me immediately, standing directly in the path of escape. "You've been avoiding me." Straight to the point, I'll give him that.

"No I haven't." I snap back instantly. _Goodness, I sound like a child_. I clear my throat and repeat my words, calmer this time. "No, I haven't been avoiding you."

"Look at me and say it again." His voice is low like a growl; a hidden threat. The brooding man takes a step forward, I take one back.

I close my eyes briefly. I can do this. Simple task. Just one sentence. My eyes lift up to meet his.

He's breathtaking; sharp jaw, spare lips, microdermals, slate blue eyes; a modern Greek god. My heart skips a beat. _How I've miss staring at him._ I don't look away, giving in to my desires and lust.

It's only when I take the time to scrutinize do I see how he's changed these few days. His face is pale, and it's not due to the moonlight. There are dark circles under his eyes; they aren't obvious though, only noticeable if you stare at him frequently to know what he looks without them.

 _I_ notice them. They stand out like a sore thumb, and I hate it. My hand twitches to reach for his face, to trail along the darken skin like I care deeply for his feelings, because I do, oddly enough. But I can't. I can't compromise all that I've worked for, all everyone's worked for.

 _Does it matter though?_ Seeing him like this reminds me of the day at the fence. And I hate it; I hate it; I hate it.

Eric's eyes bore into mine. There's a swirl of emotions fighting with each other. Confusion. Anger. Frustration. Defeat. Exhaustion. He steps closer to me, almost until our chests meet. I can't find the will to step back. His hands move to gently cup my cheek. The palms are warm and gentle, even though his hands are calloused from labor. This feels nice; right; perfect. My eyes flutter close as I lean into him. I feel him do the same. His breath fans my cheeks, dispelling the cold of the night sky. He smells good – cologne and musk. Something that I would lose myself to; something that would break my resolve.

But like a snap of fingers, he's gone. My eyes fly open as he pulls away abruptly, the warmth going with him. The cold air mocks me. "I'm sorry. I can't." Eric blurts out, rubbing his face in irritation. "I mean I can, but I won't. You're not- I'm sorry."

 _I am her._ The words are on the tip of my tongue. Three little words and all this will fade away. No more despondent Eric, no more frustrated me. But I can't, and I've _never_ hated myself more. "It's okay. I understand."

"No you don't-"

"I do." I say this firmly. I truly do. Taking a deep breath, I force myself to smile. "Let's just, get the flag and pretend this never happened. Alright?"

Never have I ever seen the young Dauntless this conflicted. He's choosing between the past and present; and he can't decide. "Give me a week." He speaks up suddenly. "Give me a week and I'll figure it out." He has this determined look in his eyes – an expression that finally looks good on him.

 _A week? A week to learn about me? A week to find the girl in the fields? A week to decide? A week to what?_ Curiosity claws at my mind, filling me up with hope, along with fear. "Okay." I don't pry; I don't push; I give myself the benefit of doubt.

* * *

When we arrive to the Ferris wheel, there are initiates crumpled on the ground everywhere. My arm is yanked to the side and my body stumbles behind a wall. Something whizzes past my ears.

"Are you crazy?!" Eric whisper-yells, eyes wide. "There are people up there! You're gonna get shot!" It suddenly strikes me that the malicious leader _might_ take this game a little _too_ seriously. I can't help but grin.

"Okay." I whisper-yell back with just as much enthusiasm. "So, what's the plan?"

"Switch sides." Eric pulls me further from the edge of the wall, taking the place where I was crouched seconds ago. He pokes his head out for a split second before bringing it back in. A bullet flies past where his face was mere milliseconds ago. "Number boy's guarding the flag. He's a crazy one, that motherfucker, don't let him see you. Though, I think he knows we're here by the darts."

"Got it, don't let him see me."

"There's an initiate on a ferris wheel cart. I think it's Joe, he's a lousy shooter, so don't worry about him." _Has he been keeping tabs on how well everyone can shoot?_

"Who's Joe?"

"One of the transfers you train with…?" He says incredulously.

I have no idea who he is. "Right. Lousy shooter. Don't worry about him."

"But don't let him see you!" _Eric's cute._ I steel my face to prevent cracking up. His eyebrow lifts, the metal studs glint under the moonlight. "Are you finding this funny?"

"What makes you say that?" _To think that I was good at faking emotions._

"You look constipated." _I do?_

I clear my throat. "Just thought of something weird."

Eric looks at me exasperatedly; at least he doesn't look like he's going to snap me in half. "At a crucial time like this?"

"I'm sorry." I wheeze out.

Eric doesn't find me convincing, but he goes back to evaluating our situation. By the time he's done, he's located every guard on Four's team – all of which I should not let them see me – and conclude that we are the only two people on our offense squad left. It amazes me to no end how he managed to dissect and assess the whole scene with a few pokes of his head.

"Now remember, these initiates probably think that everyone is down, so they won't be expecting us. All except Four, because Four's an ass."

"Four's an ass, got it." Eric smirks at my serious face. He isn't aware that I now have bad-blood with him too.

"Two shots. Remember where they are?" We had moved from our earlier spot, taking camp behind a different building.

"Ten thirty and eleven forty-five. Don't think, just shoot." I recite his orders from earlier.

Eric nods his head. "Good. I'll be right behind you." _Wait, what?_ "Go!" The twenty-year-old man shoves me out into the open, like a lamb thrown into the wolves' den – cause that's exactly what it is.

I don't have time to think or swear before my instincts take over. I fire two shots in succession, yelps and shrieks fill the air. _Was that Riley?_ Adrenaline surges through my veins and my legs push me straight towards the flag and Four. Two more dart-shots registers in my ears, but only one yelp follows. "Split up!" Eric barks from behind me. I take the right while he takes the left. I leap over a panting Mark, he seems pretty worn out. _Good._ Four waves the gun between the two of us, shooting darts in miscalculated panic. I miraculously dodge all of them, and so does Eric; I think. Four aims his gun at me again, who is only meters away now, but this time it only clicks.

Eric picks up on the sound before I can utter a word. He lifts his gun and shoots the defenseless instructor, making him groan and fall onto the ground. I dive for the flag as if all the other initiates weren't already down. With the fabric in hand, I whoop and jump in victory, pausing to wave it in number boy's face. Eric laughs while number-boy rolls his eyes. I shoot him in the thigh.

* * *

The ride back to the Dauntless is full of grumpy teenagers. Only me and Eric are high on euphoria, since we're the only ones who _both_ didn't get shot or sit at the docks, bored out of our minds. Well… maybe Jace is high too.

"Did you see them?" Jace exclaims to a bunch of exhausted Dauntless-born. "They came out of nowhere and was like 'phew!' 'phew!' and then-"

"Yeah I know, I was the one they shot." A girl growls irritatingly, rubbing her shoulder.

Jace ignores her. "It was so cool! And when Four ran out of bullets… You should've seen his face!" Jace cackles like he doesn't notice that everyone, except me, can't relate.

I tuck my feet beneath me and rise from the ground, moving lean out of the car next to Four. "You knew we would win." I say quietly, my anger towards him now dissipated. I figured it out when I realized that Four didn't alert the rest of the initiates the moment he spotted us. Four sighs but doesn't turn to me. He was shot four times, though the number wasn't intentional. Eric had his shit-eating grin the whole way to the train, watching his rival hobble on his good leg. At one point, I felt so guilty that I offered to carry his gun or help him. He declined both offers, snapping that he was a ' _perfectly_ capable Dauntless soldier' who can handle a few 'measly' shots. I suppose his pride has been slightly wounded.

It takes a moment for him to speak up, but when he does, I almost didn't catch it. "For what it's worth, I'll do it again."

Thinking back, I can't help but agree.


	12. Chapter 12

Visitation Day is tomorrow, which makes today the last day of stage one.

I squint at the writing on the board.

_Cob._

_Cde._

For the benefit of all, Eric should be writing instead.

My hands rub eyes as if it will clear my almost-perfect vision. Miraculously, it worked, and I immediately regret it.

I'm against Cole.

Cole. The only other initiate who has remained undefeated.

Cole. The only initiate whose given his opponents cracked ribs and broken noses.

Cole. The most heartless of all I've met.

Cole. The one ranked first among us.

I rest my fingers against my lips, letting the information sink in. The beast inside me paces, whispering all I can do to him. Rage slowly fills me as I think about all those who've been unfortunate enough to be paired with him.

I could avenge them, teach him a lesson he won't forget.

Cole stands with the rest of the boys, head held high and unfazed by his opponent. I tilt my head as I watch him conversing. If there was anyone who deserves pain, it would be this louse. A smile creeps up my lips as I picture Sabre beside me, hackles raised and teeth bared.

One simple command and the initiate will never walk again.

The scene in my head is vivid. I can imagine the sheer panic and fear that will fill his face as the merciless hound tears his way to him. The way he screams and tries to escape, only to be knocked down hard onto the concrete floor. Maybe he'll break his nose during that fall, or maybe Sabre will do the honor. Cole will be completely at the hound's mercy, no training from Four will protect him.

I wonder what his screams sound like.

A girl's? High-pitched and sissy.

Or a pig's? Squealing and pathetic.

I can imagine the state Sabre will leave him, disfigured and barely alive, just a fraction of what he deserves for what he has done to others. Sabre will trot right up to me, tail wagging and head held high, with his beautiful dark-grey muzzle tainted dark with blood. The blood of someone who doesn't deserve mercy. I would get down on my knees then, welcoming my pride and joy with open arms. A beautiful day that would be.

"I know what you're thinking." A familiar velvet voice says beside me.

I straighten my spine and turn towards my only friend. "Tell me he doesn't deserve it."

The man is silent beside me, the heat he's emitting being the only indication he hadn't left.

Cole laughs at a snide joke Mark said, throwing his head back and slapping his back in response. He sees me watching after he sobered up. My head only tilts further, feeling no embarrassment to be caught staring. Shooting me a sneer, he goes back to his friends. He speaks quieter this time, and they all glance furtively to me.

Through my almost two weeks of being here in Dauntless, I've yet to find one redeemable quality of this despicable boy. "You say that, but Eric's no better than him." My whole-body tenses at the mention of the handsome leader. _How dare-_ "Eric is ruthless, you've seen-"

"Eric is different." I snap back immediately, eyes promptly narrowing to slits at the man beside me.

"Is he?" Four challenges, taking a step to face me. His arms are crossed and his face is hard. I don't back down. "Pray tell."

Is he?

I'm suddenly struck with doubt, Cole and his antics long forgotten. Four was in the _same_ initiate class as the young leader, surely he of all people would know what Eric was, and is like. My face scrunches into distaste at the fact. From what I've seen, Eric seems to enjoy the fights, unlike Four who's mostly uncomfortable unless the person is paired with me. Eric _is_ like Cole. The only difference is he stands on the sidelines instead. The seriousness on Four's face tells me were Eric be in the initiate's position, he wouldn't hesitate to beat his opponent into a bloody pulp.

_No._

I've seen Eric; the man without his walls. I know he is nothing like Cole.

Do I though?

Does he having taken an interest in me change the person he truly is? I open my mouth but no words form. I'm speechless. I'm speechless because stupid number-boy has a point. Looks aside, why _do_ I like Eric? Because he treats me differently? And I'm spared by Dauntless' most brutal man?Because he has never yelled or raised a hand on me _?_ That should be the bare minimum a man should do to his girl; given that he regards me as that.

Why do I like him?

I've never sat down and evaluated. I recall my last night back in Amity, how I decided not to associate myself with him. What changed? My brows furrow as I ponder. As far as I can see, Eric hasn't exactly changed his ways.

Sure, he cares about me a little bit more than normal, but that shouldn't cover up his flaws. My mind is muddled, suddenly realizing that I don't know why I'm attracted to him.

Am I attracted to the man inside? Or outside?

The only thing I do know is that I care for him; and I have no idea why.

The man of subject enters the training room then, causing Four to slink away and call for the first fights.

Eric's tired today.

His shoulders are slumping, so slightly that it's barely noticeable. His face doesn't sport its signature scowl or sneer, just flat and dull. Four was right a few days ago during capture-the-flag, he must've known that by letting Eric win, he would get a few days spared from arguing with him. Eric had strutted around Dauntless like a peacock with a fixed smirk on his lips, boasting about how he gunned down number-boy and two other initiates in the span of a minute _and_ took the flag.

I'm not sure if I was included in his conversations with the members, being too distracted by his high-spirited moods. It was a refreshing sight, one that makes me smile like a buffoon.

But like all good things, it must come to an end. Sadly, it wasn't long enough for me. Eric stands in front of the board containing the fighting pairs. I can see his eye twitch in irritation. "Fucking chicken scrawl." He curses loud enough for me, who's standing a few feet to the side of him, to hear.

Finally, someone on my side.

The leader places his hands on the hips, craning his neck to decipher number-boy's writing. Four tried to write differently today, ditching the cursive tails for cramped letters. I suppose his handwriting today is marginally better, despite the vast difference in style.

By the time he read the last pair – mine's - his scowl is now etched on his face. The young leader strides over to the instructor, stepping over the bruised dark-skin Erudite girl unperturbed before taking his place beside Four.

I move to sit with Riley, suddenly feeling unsettled. My mind is blank as the sheets Four likes to read. I don't know what to make of the leader and I don't want to figure it out. Riley seems nervous, her hands fidget and her eyes dart around too much. She's up against Ruby today – the second-best female fighter.

The urge for a distraction gnaws at me. "Hit here." I point at the carotid sinus on my neck.

"What?"

The eye further away from her twitches. There's no way one had somehow managed to evade watching any of my matches.I tuck my feet underneath me and push myself to stand. Teaching Riley would provide a good distraction from all the crap that's going on in my head. "Come on, I'll give you some pointers." I'd decided not to repeat myself.

The Candor perks up immediately, eyes bright and smile wide. "Really?"

_No. It's just false hope._

"Yes," I say tightly.

Riley hops onto her feet, following me to an empty mat in the room. Her brown eyes hold a gleam in them, something I've never seen before – hope.

We don't have much time, since Riley's fight will be up next. "Ruby is smart, but not smart enough." I start. "She hits with her right arm, using the left to guard her face." I move up my hands to mimic her punch. Riley nods as she watches, completely engrossed on everything I say. "The moment you see her punching, kick her right side. You're flexible and quick enough to intercept her that way. Once that happens, grab her left arm and pull it across her body, which will expose her neck. Then hit the spot I told you to." I grab Riley's hand and bring my other hand down vertically, showing her the force needed to quickly knock someone out.

Riley's jaw unhinges at the strength requires to pull off the move. I don't react, my expectations of her knowing anything low.

"Don't do this at the start. You need to wear her out first." I continue to explain how to predict a person's next movements and how to intercept or dodge them. Riley nods her head, testing them out on me. We continue like this for a few minutes.

Teaching someone how to protect themselves is oddly enjoyable. And for once, I don't find the exercise draining.

Perhaps it's the idea of coaching someone to hone their skills and techniques effectively without causing inessential harm to the opposite party.

"Riley and Ruby." Four announces. Riley turns to me and smiles, feeling confident for the first time.

"You can do-" I'm cut off by the rush of air escaping my lungs. A pair of thin arms wrap around my body, almost bordering suffocating. I'm stumped. This is my first hug in two weeks, and I didn't realize how much I miss it,.

It takes me a while to respond, but I eventually wrap my arms around her. Riley smells like vanilla, a sweet calming scent I've never actually noticed on her. "Thank you." She says. I grunt in response, her grip unyielding. "For everything." Her tone is soft and sincere; real.

As she pulls away, I can't help but wonder what she meant. Everything as in fighting techniques? Or everything as in Jace and all the times I helped her? Riley moves to the mat with her back straight; confidence looks good on her. My mind tells me that it's the latter. I feel so too.

* * *

Riley wins the match.

A surge of pride rushes through me as I watch her using the tricks I've just taught her. She wore Ruby out, knocking her down by kicking the back of her knees right after she sidestepped an incoming hit. Watching her reminds me of me. Perhaps this was this what mom felt when I first started training, proud and content.

 _We don't do this their way, but the right way,_ she always reminded, forever patient when I complained about the moves being too gentle and soft.

I see that now. My heart swells for the love I feel for my mother, she's perfect in every way. Gentle, patient, kind, and dangerous. Visitation day is tomorrow, meaning that in twenty-four hours, I'll be reunited with her and dad. My insides bubble with excitement at the thought of seeing them again. They are the world to me.

Everyone – even me – was shocked when Riley came out as the victor. This is the first match she won, so the reactions of everyone are as predicted. Four pats her back and congratulates her, helping her pull Ruby off the ring. The moment Four lets her go, she runs to me, squealing and full of gratitude. I can't stop the grin that forms on my face, her happiness contagious. She thanks me profusely, rambling about how she managed to dodge most of the hits by reading her opponent's facial features and gaze. I laugh as she embraces me, tears brimming her eyes in shock and glee.

But unlike her, my happiness is short-lived.

"Anna and Cole."

Right.

I had forgotten about my fight with the scum. My arms fall away to my side as all the mirth seeps out of my face. Riley immediately tenses, giving me one last squeeze before pulling away. She mumbles a 'good luck' as I step away from her, stoically striding up the mat.

Cole reminds me of a deranged bull; his fists are clenched to his side and all his muscles have been pulled taut. My head tilts slightly and my eye twitches.

I didn't know intimidation stances are a thing now.

I take my place on the opposite side of the mat, stretching out my arms and legs before rolling back my shoulders. There's a ringing sound in my ears, one that blocks out all noise. I'm not sure what to do to the bulky Erudite, whether to hurt him or not. But I'm not given time to think because he's already in my face, a fist heading straight to my face. My arm instinctively moves up to block the punch. The impact of fist colliding with arm sends a sear of pain through my forearm.

My heart skips a beat.

Adrenaline pumps into my veins as his fist grazes my cheek, my movements almost too slow to dodge it. My breathing picks up as I twist away, forcing a good distance between us. No thoughts form in my head as he lunges towards me, arms outstretched and aiming for my neck. I yelp as he manages to latch onto my arm instead, pulling me down with him to the ground. My skull slams into the horribly-cushioned mat, the impact making my head sting.

Black dots starting to form in my vision.

Crap.

I twist my arm away from his hand, scrambling back up onto my two feet. By now, blood pounds in my ears, deafening and unceasing. Panic sets in and my hands grow clammy. My world spins as I force myself to get a grip.

But I can't.

_I'm afraid._

Cole lunges before I've fully recovered. My feet yank my body away from him, all coherent thoughts flying out of the window as the will to survive kicks in. Fear pulses through me as I continue to twist and crouch to avoid his hits. My arms ache from blocking the hard punches, undoubtedly beginning to bruise. Each breath I take is short and quick, panicked and ragged.

Cole shows no signs of slowing down, but I am.

My head spins from dizziness, clouded with fear and nothing else. I feel myself losing, my movements turning sloppy.

_I'm afraid; I'm afraid; I'm afraid._

A sharp pain shoots up my side, making me stumble back. I didn't see his shoe coming up; the ringing and pounding in my ears coupled with my blackening vision too overwhelming to focus. Air escapes from me as my body is forced out of its axis. Gravity pulls me down hard, back slamming onto the ground to fast for me to brace myself. Lead weighs my arms down, too heavy to push myself up or protect my face. I wait for pain to rip my side, the kicks that Cole always sends to take out his anger. It doesn't come.

Instead, something presses itself on my lower body – his.

Something snaps in me then, the cloud of fogginess lifting. Cole is on top of me, a position I'm uncomfortable and alien to. His arms cage me in, his hips pin me down. Cole's eyes are cold and foul, something unrecognizable swimming within them.

I feel threatened and exposed.

My mother's voice screams into my ear; it's the first thing I've heard since the match began. _TRIANGLE!_ Her voice is shrill and piercing, cutting through all the pain and din.

My movements become robotic, defense mechanism kicking in. I grab his hand on my right and force it to his chest, my leg immediately slinging up to his neck. My ankles lock against each other while my other hand slings onto my left leg, forcing his other arm in place. Cole shouts in surprise, suddenly being yanked against me. My body twists towards his outstretched arm, hands grabbing and twisting his arm into an odd angle.

I don't think, I just do.

A sickening loud 'pop' is heard and Cole promptly screams.

He bucks against me and I pull his arm across his chest in the span of a millisecond. My thighs squeeze together to force him still. I tip us to the side before he attempts to straighten his back. His screams make my ears burn but does nothing to my unyielding hold.

_Pass out._

Is what I silently plead despite what I've done. I lock his free arm using mine as he struggles for air. The moment his screams contort to wheezes, I know there's not much longer.

_Please pass out._

It takes him a moment longer to oblige.

Legs untangle themselves away from him and I push the limp initiate off me. He flops onto his back, arm still twisted in an unnatural angle. Cole's face is purple from the lack of oxygen.

The sight is sickening.

And I only make it to my fours before my breakfast hurls out of my body. My stomach lurches as I heave a few feet beside the boy. The acid burns my throat and mouth, making tears well at my eyes. I heave until I can't anymore, until my stomach ache and face stings.

I'm never doing this again.

The second my urge to heave halts is the moment I register the pin-drop silence. I don't look up, afraid of what I'll see. Instead, I crawl away from the boy and my vomit, the smell aggravating my nose. Pain shoots up from my side where Cole's boot had made contact, and I wince.

Only when I've collapsed onto the mat does anyone say anything.

"Mark and Joe, take Cole to the infirmary." Four's voice is robotic and monotoned, like he's not really in the now. There's a shuffle of footsteps as the boys move to pick up their friend. I don't turn to look at them, exhausted. My limbs are heavy with lead and I can't move, having given up now danger has passed. "You all have the rest of today off. Enjoy your weekend." My body aches, the adrenaline wearing off to reveal the injuries I've sustained during my fight. Another pair of footsteps register in my ears, this time softer and timid. "Don't worry about her Riley, we'll handle her."

"But-"

"Leave." A new voice interjects, irritated and final – Eric's.

The footsteps pause, as if lost on what to do. For a few seconds, no noise is made. My eyes close in weariness, seeing no point in staring at the bloodied mat any longer. Riley whispers something I don't quite catch, and my world turns black.


	13. Chapter 13

Riley was right; the infirmary beds are comfy.

I wake up on something softer than the crappy beds of the dorms. Everything smells of detergent and with a hint of antiseptic; a scent I find oddly calming. Fluffy sheets wrap around my body, providing the warmth that contends with the cocoon I snuggle in. My hands move to grab the edge of the sheets, pulling them closer to me and nuzzling into the pillow. This must be what Riley did when she was injured – happily camping in undisturbed comfort.

A sound of wood scraping the floor have my eyes snapping open. White blinding light greets me. "You're awake." A glass of water enters my field of vision. Unconsciously, I grab ahold of it. My mouth still tastes faintly of vomit.

Once I've downed the liquid and return the cup, I heave myself to sit up. The room is spacious and airy, one-third the size of the dorms. There's a single grey armchair at one corner of the room, slightly out of place after being pushed by the user. I take my time before looking up to Eric. I would've wished it was Four instead, if it weren't for Eric holding out another glass of water. I accept it gingerly, mumbling a thanks. His features are unreadable, poker-face on. He moves to sit at the edge of my bed, making me feel like a cornered animal. Sipping some water, I swoosh it in my mouth before swallowing. "I wish I wasn't." My voice sounds hoarse, just like the chair that scraped the ground.

"Where did you learn that?"

I definitely wish Four was here instead.

I take another gulp of water. "Learn what?" It had completely slipped my mind that the possibility of Dauntless using a triangle choke may be non-existent.

"A triangle choke." I shift in my seat, causing pain to shoot up my side. My hand flies the area where Cole had kicked. Shoot, had he cracked my rib? "This technique is from martial arts, used before The War and only accessible through books. Don't tell me Four taught you this, because it's not part of our curriculum." Eric states. He has an eyebrow quirked and questioning.

It makes sense Dauntless wouldn't use such a move set, considering that it _is_ easier to shoot someone in the head than choke them till they pass out. It's that moment where I realized I fucked-up.

Do I tell him that my mother taught me? But being an ex-Dauntless, she isn't supposed to know the move. I can't say that I read it either, lest it raise flags on what I truly am. "My mom taught me the move, she learned it from her mother who was a martial arts freak." I lie. Mom learnt it from the books dad brought home, adamant to teach me non-lethal techniques to take down people.

"Sara Laker. The infamous Dauntless who transferred to Amity." Someone has been doing their research _._ How much does he already know about me?"I would've thought that she hated everything Dauntless stood for making it odd that she taught you techniques to fight." Trepidation settles in my stomach. I'm not sure where Eric is heading, but I don't like it.

"She never hated Dauntless, which is why she still volunteered to be an ambassador." He probably met her a few times. I hide myself swallowing by placing the empty glass onto the table beside me. 'Half-truths are the best lies.' My father used to tell me, explaining how the Erudite manipulate people. "She was running away from something; at least, that's what she told me." I school my face to feign casualness, shrugging my shoulders as if her actions confuse me as well. I see what Four sees in Eric now, a scheming, observant man. Yet, why do I still care about him?

Like a switch, his poker face disappears. "You did quite well back there." Despite the lightness in his tone, the uneasiness in me doesn't fade away. Instead, it only grows.

"Thanks. How's Cole?" I don't really care about the louse, but it's the first thing I can think of.

A scowl etches onto his face. _Maybe he doesn't see Cole as the star student._ He looks at me incredulously, as if I'm crazy for asking about my opponent's wellbeing instead of mine's."Alive. Though, too alive for my liking." There's a slight edge to his voice, reminding me of the ruthless man he is known for. "You suffered a cracked rib and a concussion." Makes sense _._ "I'm surprised you didn't pass out after hitting your head so hard earlier _and_ still managed to knock Cole out." Eric has a hint of pride and arrogance in his words, slate-blue eyes bright and shining.

I would like to thank my dogs for building my endurance and pain tolerance. "Well he didn't hit me that hard, and the mat _did_ cushion my fall."

The mat didn't do shit _._

But I'm not going to tell him that, as it may expose my dogs and cause a chain reaction of stuff my fuzzy mind can't deal with.

"Right." Eric says flatly. Good that he doesn't believe me, for I don't even believe myself. "You're first now you know? Beating Cole gives you the right to that spot."

An ear-splitting grin fills my face. First for stage one… even with my pacifist methods… "Really?" My body shakes with excitement, trepidation from the earlier conversation evaporating quicker than saying the word 'first'.

"Really."

First.

I can't wait to tell mom tomorrow. Eric's smile mirrors my own. I can't figure out if it's because my happiness is contagious or he's truly proud of me; I don't bother to find out.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" My head is high on euphoria, all logical thinking flying out the window. Eric being happy makes his attractiveness increase tenfold, I could kiss him in glee. My back moves off the headboard to crawl to him, giddy with excitement of being the first. I'm about to hug him when my side burns up again. "Ah crap." I wheeze, slumping down pathetically. The young man chuckles, shaking his head as he sees the defeat killing my fire. I huff and cross my arms, pouting in pure irritation. "Stupid Cole." I grumble.

"Stupid Cole." He mimics squeakily, bottom lip out; a horrible imitation. Eric laughs some more as I glare back at him. I don't look _that_ stupid. He stretches a tattooed hand across me to reach for the bedside table. "Here." A bottle of pills are in his hand. "Painkillers and for quick recovery. You should be good as new in five days tops." My eyes widen in shock.

Five days to heal a fractured bone?

I grab and pills and shake them around, large blue capsules stare back at me. "Take one after every meal, so three per day. The doctor already gave you a shot earlier, so you can start taking them tomorrow." My brows furrow. "Which should kick in about…" The trainer glances at the clock above the door, it reads 6:45pm. "…now." The moment the words leave his lips, the pain is gone. _Huh._ "And cooling pads, to reduce swelling." He hands me a brown cardboard box the size of a tissue box. "The packets are air-activated and only lasts about eight hours, I would suggest using all of it." I open the box to find individually sealed blue foil packets. An Erudite invention no doubt. There are small writings on the packets containing instructions on how to use it.

"Thanks." I say. He didn't need to do this.

Eric smiles. "No problem." He stands from the bed, the warmth next to my legs evaporating. He turns to towards the door, about to head out. "Oh." He pauses and looks over his shoulder. "Whatever you do, try not to skip. I don't want you back here again." He has a mischievous glint in his gaze. I frown.

…What?

* * *

For the first time in forever, I don't dread the blabbering of my acquaintances.

"Hi guys!" I pipe, a grin on my face as I place my tray down beside Jace. Four heads look up to me weirdly before exchanging each other looks. Is there something on my face?

"Hi Anna." Jace greets slowly, seeing that no one else was going to speak up. "Riley said you were in a pretty bad shape earlier…" He trails off, looking at the Candor skeptically.

"Oh! Yeah I did! But I won the match though." I point my fork at Jace before stabbing it into a piece of broccoli. "Cole's a pussy." I mumble under my breath, stuffing the vegetable into my mouth.

"What's the verdict from the doc?" Skylar asks.

I thought there were only nurses; maybe not. "The doc?"

"What did the person say when they let you out?" Riley rephrases. Why couldn't Skylar just say that in the beginning?

I swallow and stab another piece of broccoli. "Ah. Well Eric said I had a crack rib and it'll take about five days to heal." I chew thoughtfully. "Which is crazy since it would normally take like what… one, two months to heal? How advanced has Erudite technology gone?" I pause to continue munching, eyes on my food. "You know, I broke my arm when I was eight, fell from a tree and all. And that took me two months to heal. I wonder if I break my arm again, will it heal faster?"

"Eric?" Riley squeaks. She reminds me of a mouse, especially with her eyes so wide.

My eye twitches in minute she only listened to the first part?"Yes Eric. Our instructor? Yeah, he gave me the medication and stuff and blah blah, asking me not to skip around like a peace-drunk Amity. Who's he to tell me that! Do I look like a peace drunk Amity to you?" I throw my arms in the air, and the chicken on the fork flies to the floor. I grimace at the wastage. "I'm not! I'm the calmest and most collected person among the transfers. This guy has no idea what he's talking about." I huff in annoyance.

No one speaks for the longest time, all glacing between each other like they have telepathic abilities. I ignore them and continue eating. The chicken tastes delicious today. At some point my four acquaintances starts to whispering amongst themselves, but I'm too busy thinking about how Dauntless could use hamburgers. Don't get me wrong, the steaks and grilled chicken are good. My only issue is that they pretty much serve them every other day. The people here must've had their taste buds burnt off to consume something so and shepherd's pie are good alternatives too, and I briefly wonder if I could teach the chefs to make them one day, then decide it's a horrible idea.

* * *

"You need boots."

"I don't want boots!" I glare at Skylar defiantly. Boots are impractical _and_ heavy, there is no reason to have them. The both of us are shopping today, something about a promise I don't recall making and stage one of initiation being officially finished.

"You need boots." A ridiculously high-pitched voice enters my ears, it's the same cashier when I came on the first day. I have no idea how this girl survived initiation with a child's voice.

I glare between both of them, their newfound friendship irking me. "You guys can't pressurize me into anything! I don't want boots; therefore, I won't get them!" I stomp my foot on the ground, fists clenched to my sides.

Skylar sighs dramatically. She mumbles something about the 'shots in the infirmary' before placing the pair of overly-black boots on the counter. "She'll take a jacket too, as well as two pairs of tactical pants."

My jaw drops. "Hey! That's my points you're docking off! You have no right-mmf!" A hand clamps onto my mouth from behind, followed by a relatively small male arm. "Hmphf! Fhkmf!" The man drags me out of the store kicking and screaming. I contemplate licking the hand, but it's too icky for my liking.

"Thanks Jace!" Skylar yells from the store.

Why you little-

I elbow the boy in the stomach, smirking at the immediate grunt in pain. He drops me back on my two feet and I triumphally spin on my heels. "Asshole!" I curse out, pleased but also irritated. Jace splutters and coughs, bent over with his hands on his knees.

"You." Cough. "Were." Cough. "Causing a scene." He wheezes out. My pupils contract. Causing a scene? Jace must be blind, for obviously Skylar had started it.I'm merely a victim whose points is being stolen. I huff and take a step back, incredulous.

But what if I am making a scene?

"Whatever." I grumble, suddenly struck with embarrassment. "And your hands are gross by the way." With that, I turn on my heels, marching back to the dorms for a well-deserved sleep.

I assume they'll send the bags later.


	14. Chapter 14

Eric enters the dorm right when I exit the bathroom.

"Initiates!" His voice is unnecessarily loud, no doubt to scare everyone awake. Multiple beds jolt to life and a few curses fill the room. I would laugh at the sight but I'm unusually groggy this morning. "I want to give you some advice about today." He starts. It takes me a while to remember what today is: Visitation Day. _Right._ "If your families do make an appearance of course…" A few transfers flinch from their beds, making the malicious leader smirk. "which is highly unlikely. So, if they do turn up, best not seem too attached. It's easier for you and for them." The words fly out of my ears milliseconds after they entered. "We take the phrase 'Faction before Blood' very seriously at Dauntless, don't disappoint us." The leader's threat is loud and clear, though I probably won't follow it.

Grabbing the bottle of pills, I exit the room just like how Eric did – never once looking back. The apple is half eaten in my hand when I reach the Pit. Bursts of dull colors litter the Pit like clumpy sprinkles. It's easy to spot my family, since they are the only brightly colored ones in the whole area. Mom stands with a smile on her face, completely at home as she greets multiple people dressed in black. She wears an orange dress in pride, not allowing anyone intimidate her. There's someone else behind her, posture awkward and tall. John. Exhilaration surges through my veins as I practically run down the steps. I chuck the half-eaten apple into the bin, desperate to reach them. My body twists and squeezes through the throng of people, uncaring of who found their families and who didn't.

John is the first to spot me. His eyes light up in recognition as he steps away from my mother. I don't give him a second more before I launch myself at him. He smells of grass and fresh air – home. "Anna." He grunts out, hands immediately going to my head and over my shoulders. The sound of his voice makes tears brim my eyes. It's only now that he's here do I realize how much I miss him.

"John." Is all I manage to choke out. I blink away the moisture in my eyes; now is not the time for sadness. "You came." My hands squeeze his waist tighter. It's been a while since I've hugged someone I love.

"Of course I did you idiot." He snaps offendedly. "I wouldn't miss it for the world." He adds softer this time, giving me a reassuring squeeze. To be honest, it never crossed my mind that John would come. He had a family in Erudite after all, it isn't a surprise if he chose to visit them instead.

"Hi Anna." My ears perk at the familiar soothing voice, one that lulled me to sleep when I had nightmares as a kid. Mom. Untangling from John, I spin to embrace my mother gently. "You look beautiful." She whispers. She too smells of home, just with a touch of food. Her embrace is warm and intimate, something only shared between mother and daughter.

"Thank you." There's a permanent smile on my face, and I don't want to wipe it off.

After holding onto her for one more second, I step away so John can enter the circle. "So, how's Dauntless been treating you? It doesn't look like you've changed much, muscle-wise." He starts. I roll my eyes playfully. What he said is true – I haven't changed much. Having such a physically tedious life in Amity really prepared me for Dauntless, I don't even think I gained weight. So I tell them how initiation has been for me, how Four is a good instructor and how I used the techniques mom taught to take down my opponents. Mom's eyes beam when I mention that. I tell them about the group of friends I sit with, how they are rowdy and odd at times. I tell them about Riley, about how I'm not sure where our friendship stands. I leave out everything about Eric and Four being my somewhat friend, as well as the events of yesterday. By the time I'm done rambling, John's face has contorted in shock. I guess no one told him what Dauntless is like. "Oh! And I'm first too."

The Pit is roaring with noise by now, all the families finally having arrived. The three of us move towards the dining hall, agreeing that it'll be quieter there. Mom has a cooler bag in her hand that I didn't notice earlier. She brought food _._ "How's everything going back in Amity?" I ask. _More like, how's the dogs?_

John picks up on my hidden meaning. "The dogs are… well… they're alive for one." He winces, shrugging his shoulders.

"What?!" Panic fills me. _Is the peace-serum not working on them?_ A million of scenarios run through my head, mostly resulting with the dogs dying from depression.

The man laughs and my mom chides him. "I'm kidding! Gosh!" He continues to laugh, face turning red. I can't relate to his mirth. John takes a moment to sober up and wipes a tear from his eye. "The dogs are fine. Sabre is a pretty good notifier by the way. He reminds me whenever I forget to give them their dosage by howling like a maniac. It's a bit annoying, but it works." I cringe. "They spend their days in Johanna's stable. I managed to train Hawk and Sabre to become messengers, they're pretty good at delivering stuff. Their memory of places is…" He presses his index on his thumb and kisses the fingers. "Magnific!" I laugh. "Gunner mostly stays in Johanna's office unless she wants him to pull wagons, he's a lazy one, isn't he?"

My shoulders roll. "Something's gotta give." I wouldn't change a thing about him.

"I think the dogs are fine, their new jobs have been keeping them busy. They miss you of course, which is why I don't bring them out to the fields in case they get all sad and glum. We head to the orchards or ranches now to burn their energy, Sam has agreed to let them herd the cows, since they're too big for the dogs to scare them shitless." A small smile graces my face. I'm glad my dogs are fine, knowing that they're doing alright makes me happy.

Mom unzips the bag and pulls out a glass container of mashed potatoes stacked onto of brown minced meat the moment we settle into one of the tables. "Figured that you may be food-sick." She says. _I am._ John excuses himself to get cutlery for us.

"Where's Dad?" I ask once he's out of earshot.

"Chasm." Is all she says. It takes me a moment to process her words but I understand. The chasm will drown out our conversation.

John arrives back with plates and cutleries. "I like your hair. Each color for each dog I suppose?" Mom takes the items from him and starts dishing out the shepherd's pie.

"You're the second one to guess it." Four was the first. It took him the following day to figure out the meaning behind them. I was genuinely surprised when it was the first thing he blurted out in the morning.

"Darn… Does that mean that someone here knows about them?" He asks.

My answer is intentionally vague. "Just a friend." John pouts and huffs.

A shadow passes over our forms, breaking our bubble. "Sara! It's good to see you again." I look up and blink; I had completely forgotten about Max's existence. "Is this your daughter? Anna, right?"

Mother stands and shakes the leader's outstretched hand. "Yes, she is. How have you been?"

The dark-skinned man only chuckles and shakes his head. "No need for the formalities, it's visitation day today, I'm sure we can catch up another time." That came out a bit weird. "I should've guessed it was your daughter. The news of an Amity transfer was quite a head-turner that day. Not sure why I didn't put the two and two together." His voice is too friendly, making me oddly apprehensive. _It could just be because they're friends._ The voice in my head reasons; I'm not so convinced. "I've heard great things about her from Eric." _Eric has been talking about me?_ "Her fights are flawless, not a single bloodshed in either party. It's quite the talk among Dauntless, everyone wants to see it for themselves." Dread fills me. _Did I just unknowingly a target on my back? A pacifistic Dauntless just screams divergent._

Mom covers my dumb ass. "Ah yes, I've taught her a few ways to knock a person out. Anna's quite squeamish when it comes to blood."

Max nods in thought. "I guess that makes sense. Four told me something along those lines when she freaked out during one of the fights." _Four is godsent._ Relief and gratitude floods through me, making my shoulders slump. I force a smile and shrug my shoulders, praying that I seem convincing. He buys it – I think. "Well then, I don't want to interrupt your day any longer. I hope you enjoy yourselves." The leader waves and spins on his heel, moving off to converse with a Dauntless passerby. Mom sits into her seat stiffly, registering the mistake in my actions. John starts up light conversation about the stores in the Pit. I'm grateful for the distraction.

* * *

"Your father's in Erudite. He's meeting with Becky, trying to see if he can get anything out on what's going on." We're at the chasm while John is stuffing himself with Dauntless cake. There aren't many families milling around, making it easy for us to converse quietly. Becky is dad's sister, who is also John's mother. She works closely with Jeanine, which makes sense why dad would go to her.

"Is she trustworthy though?" I whisper. One wrong move and dad could be exposed.

Mom shuffles closer and leans against the railing. "She was the one who introduced him to what's going on. I believe not everyone follows Jeanine like lost puppies. Becky is one of them."

I sigh in relief and force a laugh, making us seem like we're having casual conversation. My mind drifts back to the rooftop discussion I had with Four last week. "Jeanine may be building an army through Dauntless, which makes sense why the cut-system was implemented. I'm not sure how they're gonna pull it off though, but it's a good guess."

The shock she's feeling doesn't show, instead she grins widely and places a hand on my shoulder. "I'll inform Adrian about it." She says through a grin. _My mother is one heck of an actor._ "Stage one of initiation is over yes?"

"Yes."

She nods. In a heartbeat, I'm forced into a hug. "This is where you need to be careful. Stage two exposes your kind like sore thumbs." A shiver runs down my spine. "Eric has been travelling around the factions meeting with the 18 year-olds who've transferred. He took away one of ours, saying that his Candor mother was sick; it's been more than a week already." Every fiber of my body freezes. "The boy showed signs of divergence." My mind goes slack. _Eric is hunting divergents._ My breathing picks up and my hands start getting clammy. _He'll find out about me._ My knees buckle and I grab the railing for support. _And he'll kill me when he does._ "Hey hey. Shhh" My mother soothes. "You'll be fine. There's nothing to worry about. Deep breaths." I draw a long breath, forcing myself to calm down. "Listen to me. You're the most _capable_ person I know." She whispers the words in my ear.

"I am capable." I repeat, continuing to breathe in deeply.

"You're the _smartest_ person I know."

"I am smart." Her words engrave itself into my brain.

"And you're the _bravest_ person I know."

"I am brave."

"And if there's _anyone_ that will survive this." She pauses, squeezing my form reassuringly. "It's you."

"It's me." I suddenly remember something and burst out laughing. Mom pulls away questioningly, features worried before relaxing when she sees I'm not hysterical. _Yet._ "Hey you know that song? It has a chorus that goes 'I will survive'?"

"By Gloria Gaynor?" Mom laughs and shake her head.

"Yeah. I think that's gonna be my anthem now." I lean against the railing and cup my chin. "Just the chorus though. The verses are not really applicable… or maybe just the phrase, now that I'm thinking about it…"

* * *

"Back so soon?" Four stands in the middle of the dorm. He holds a chalkboard and his clipboard on one hand.

"They had to go back early, there aren't many return trains to Amity." John was upset that they had to leave early. He made me promise him to bring Dauntless cake if I ever came to visit. I begrudgingly agreed. "Final rankings?" I ask.

"Yep. Did you come here to write them for me?" The corners of his mouth pull down to a scowl. I laugh.

"I suppose I did, yeah." I move to sit on my bed, hand stretched out and gesturing for the board. Four sits across me, passing me the blackboard and clipboard.

Anna

Cole

Isaac

Ruby

Mark

Riley

Joe

Jane

Riley may still be kicked. "You don't seem elated. I expected some squealing and jumping." Four says, passing me the chalk.

I shrug distractedly. "Eric kinda ruined the moment for me." He didn't; my cracked rib did. "Told me when I woke up after the fight."

Four blinks. "Ah." We lapse into a comfortable silence. I ponder upon how I'm going to survive hiding my divergence. I'm not even sure what stage two is. Will Eric be there? I assume stage two will have something to do with simulations, since that's where divergence is most identifiable. Eric said stage two is emotional, placing us in different scenarios maybe.

I pass Four back the board. "Will you be guiding us during stage two?" I'm beating around the bush.

He quirks and eyebrow. "Lauren and I, yes." I hum in response, unsure how I should bring up what stage two is and my divergence. _Will Four protect me?_ My faith in Four relies on his hatred for Eric and his seemingly righteous intentions. As much as he is wary of Dauntless leadership, it doesn't translate to him helping people like me. _Does he even know who we are?_ I stare at the man in front of me. His face is puckered as he pretty much glares at my writing, or is it the names of the initiates? It strikes me that Four doesn't show favor among any of the transfers. Despite being friends, he treats me indifferently with the rest.

Other than his mild distaste towards slow initiates, his emotions are pretty difficult to read. _Is Four divergent?_ The gears in my brain shift as the question floats in my head. He's relatively conservative and quiet for a Dauntless. Then again, I've never actually seen him with other people outside of the training room. Stereotypically, Four doesn't match the ideal Dauntless; but I would be a fool to believe all Dauntless are the same.

I don't get the chance to ask. Four stands suddenly, face schooled into an emotionless mask. The door opens the next second and all the initiates file in. They chatter happily among themselves, something I could've related to if I was an ignorant clueless girl that I wish I was. Cole has a sling on his arm and glares at me; I try not to smirk.

"Initiates!" His instructor voice is back again. I find it slightly comical, the way how it's like an on-off switch. "These are your rankings for stage one. If you're ranked low now, it is still possible to pull up in stage two, though difficult. The cuts will be announced morning. Three of you may be cut or three of the Dauntless-born, or anything in between." He walks over to a wall where a nail protrudes. "Stage two start tomorrow morning, I'll collect you from the dining hall. Don't be late." With that, he flips the board in his hand and hangs it on the board.

Cole is the first to make a fuss. "How is the banjo-strummer first? She has never even thrown a single punch!" Good question, I'll give him that.

"Yet she is the only initiate who's remained undefeated." Four says matter-of-factly. Cole shuts his mouth, cursing under his breath. Four moves to stand in front of my bed, which is still in front of the gaping initiates. _Is he protecting me?_ My gaze finds Riley. She has turned pale. I don't want to look at her any longer. Among the bottom three, she is the safest. Though, I can't deny the fact that the chances of the lower Dauntless-borns staying are much higher.

A girl chokes on a sob – probably Jane. My head perks up from my feet to confirm; it's Riley. I lean back so Four's form is blocking me. My eye twitches uncontrollably. The Amity in me tells me that I'm her friend, and that she did try to look out for me after my fight with Cole. But the Erudite is irritated; irritated by how she doesn't think before acting, for allowing a small possibility overwhelm her. I crane my head to look at Jane. She stands passively, pursed lips indicating that she knew what awaited her even before Four announced the rankings. What did Riley expect? The beast inside snarls viciously. Did she honestly think that defeating one person was enough to secure her place in Dauntless? I should feel guilt. For if I had volunteer to teach her earlier, she could've won more fights. But I don't.

It takes me a while but eventually I stand from my bed after composing myself. I move towards the now-sobbing girl and sling an arm on the petite girl's shoulders. "Come, let's just leave this and go have some fun." Riley doesn't reply but allows me to escort her out of the half-empty dorms. If there's one thing I do know for certain, is that Candor will _always_ prefer to be around people than to wallow in self-pity alone.


	15. Chapter 15

Riley stays. I have mixed feelings about that.

"Joe." Lauren says. The lousy shooter rises from his seat and I watch as he shakes like a leaf all the way to the door. Me, Riley and Jace are the only ones left in the room. I'm not sure if someone is hinting at me to take out a few pages of 'how to be a romantic' from their book. Jace hugs the mousy girl close, whispering soothing words to her and how she'll do just fine.

"I'm surprised how calm you are." Jace says.

I look up from my kicking feet to meet his gaze. Both of them are pale and somewhat shivering. "I just act like I am." I reply simply. "Some say ignorance is bliss."

I am afraid. Four told us that we will be facing our fears in stage two. Even now, I can already name a few. My stomach churns heavily in me, clenching and twisting in ways that make me nauseous. My gaze goes back to my black-covered feet. They kick wildly in the air, like a bored child waiting for his mom to come pick him up from school. Four says that a person ranges between twelve to fourteen fears. I'm not sure I can through going each one of them unscathed.

The door creaks open. "Anna." A sudden chill shoots up my spine. Four stands leaning against the sill as he waits. It takes effort to plant my feet firmly on the ground. I stand and stretch, the muscles on my back protesting for being forced in an odd position for the past three hours. I focus on the aches as I move towards the room, forcing down the trepidation that's threatening to overwhelm me. Four steps aside and closes the door after I pass the threshold. I don't think I could've done that myself.

The room is small and anticlimactic. I expected something scarier, but that probably lies in the simulation. I'm about to take a seat in the chair that reminds me of my amplitude test when a new wave of fear courses through me. "Are there cameras here? Or any way another can hear us?" My words are jumbled and forced, much like vomit. I clench my hands to stop them from shaking.

"No." Four sits on the chair in front of the computer and rolls towards me. He staring at me deep in thought and waiting, observing me like a vet would do to an animal.

I take a deep breath and grab the arms of the simulation chair, slowly lowering myself down with shaky arms. Four places his elbows on his knees and leans forward. This gesture oddly comforts me, it's an 'I'm here for you.' I breathe in deeply a few more times, doing my best to calm my nerves. Here goes nothing. "Look I have to tell you something." I start. My voice is slightly stronger this time, driven by the will to survive and find help. "I'm-"

"Divergent." We say at the same time. My eyes snap to his in shock. _How did he figure it out?_ Shock fades to panic in a heartbeat. My breathing rate picks up. _Is my divergence that obvious? Where di-_ "I guessed it on the night where we met on the roof." The words make me freeze. His posture remains relaxed and unchanging. "The way you trained your dogs and deal with fights indicate that you are part Erudite." _It takes an Erudite to train the dogs like that?_ "You mentioned that your parents are ambassadors, so the chances of them being previous transfers are pretty high. That kind of strengthened my suspicions about what you are."

"Is it obvious?" My voice is tight. Dread fills me as I think about how I've messed up already.

"Only if you're looking." I suck in a breath. _Shit._ "Don't worry about Eric. He's too busy admiring you and tracking the divergents in other factions to take notice of you." Four adds. I slump into my seat in relief. "Does he know about the dogs?" I shake my head. "Good. He'll be on the lookout during stage two, since the signs are most obvious now. Divergents are aware when they are in simulations, which gives them the ability to manipulate them. So as long as you don't do anything outside the laws of 'nature', you'll be fine." I nod my head and take a deep breath. His advice seems easy. Four rolls away to pick up a syringe from a tray. "The way a simulation ends is when you calm yourself down." Sounds like an easy task when you know it isn't real. "But for you, I would advise against that. Quick times are another indication of divergence, though not as definite, it will still raise suspicion."

"Why are you helping me?" I blurt out suddenly. As much as Four is my friend, it doesn't mean enough for him to risk himself as well.

He pauses; the syringe in his hand inches away from my neck. "Because you're the only person who I've met that believes in what I believe in." _What?_ "Dauntless used to be much different many years ago. Now it's just a pathetic shell of what it used to be." _Right…_

Philosophical Four creeps me out. I'm not sure if I like him this profound. I assume he's referring to the night I quoted the Dauntless manifesto. I suppose I do believe in the manifesto. He has a point in Dauntless no longer living up to what it stands for, especially with the new leadership. I'm not longer given time to process his words when a sharp twinge occurs at my neck. I wince. _Thanks for the heads-up_ _buddy._

"Be brave." Is all I hear as darkness overtakes me.

* * *

I'm standing in my bedroom back in Amity. Everything is exactly where I left it. I look around confusingly, having no recollection of how I got here. My mind rakes for answers but only reaches a dead end. Growing frustrated, I decide to look around my room instead. My feet carry me to my desk, the pictures exactly where I had stuck them months ago. I pluck out a small photo of the puppies. The three canines are tangled in a mess, teeth biting each other's ears as they play. But that's not what catches my eye. It's holes. Specifically, ones on my hand.

Lots of them.

My throat rips out into an ear-piercing scream, one that hasn't been made since I fell from the tree. I drop the image and shake out my hands like tiny circles aren't etched on my skin. They don't come off. The screaming doesn't stop as my feet stumble to the bed, body colliding onto the mattress.

Logical thinking and reasoning kicks in. _Maybe it was just a hallucination._ I force myself to look at my hands again, the glimpse of hope immediately crushing. _Definitely not._

Pure terror courses through me in waves as the vivid image continues to stay when I shut my eyes. I make a mistake of clenching my hands together. I _feel_ them. The indents and bumps indicating the missing pieces of flesh. I want to grab my hair, but I squeeze my arms to my sides. My body shakes as I continue to lie on the bed, too fearful to look or move. I lay stiff as a board while the minutes ticks by, my throat now sore from screaming too much. My teeth are clenched together grinding uncomfortably, but still not enough to distract me.

 _Think._ I yell in my head. _Think._ With my brain somewhat churning, the fact that I'm in my old room returns. _My family should be here somewhere._ Taking a deep breath, I yell coherently this time. "Mom!" Time ticks by, yet there is no familiar sound of footsteps. "Mom!" I try again, slightly more frantic. "Mom I'm sick!" She would always come running when I say that.

Then like a bucket of ice water being dump on me, I realized that were she here, she would've come the moment I started screaming. "Crap!" I curse. My hand smacks over my eyes, feeling utterly hopeless. Then I remember the condition of my palms. Shrieking, I tear my hand from my face and snap it to the side.

 _Be brave._ Four's voice is like a wisp of wind; fleeting that I almost missed it. _Be brave; be brave; be brave._ With shaky hands, I muster the strength to look at them. Hundreds of dark open holes dot my hands, too deep to appear like craters. My head starts spinning and my stomach churns violently. _Screw Four._ I only manage to bend over to the edge of the bed before mushed apple and liquid exits my mouth. I grab the wooden frame before letting go immediately, the way surface isn't smooth makes me retch some more. I'm reminded of my fight of Cole as my stomach empties itself over and over again. I hate the feeling.

Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I crawl away and force myself to stand. A trip to the bathroom will help pull my shit together. I don't make a step forward before I'm screaming again. This time, it's my feet. Black holes stare back at me, depthless and uncountable. My heart pounds against my chest painfully as I scramble back onto the bed. Snatching a pillow, I muffle my screams with it, uncaring that I'm getting puke all over it. The images of my palms and feet cloud my mind, causing gooseflesh to run up the entire length of my body. I feel the acid in my stomach burning me, causing a new wave of nausea. I start slamming my head into the pillow over and over, trying to rid of the disgusting images of my mind. I don't relent, neither do they. Tears are already soaking the pillow by the time I stop the assault on the pillow. Completely, utterly, hopeless.

I want my dogs. They would force me feel better - curl up by my side and lick the tears away until I laugh.

I want my dogs. They would find help - whether it is through calling mum or bringing over their toys.

And they _aren't_ here. But they should be. A new emotion rips through me, slicing through all the fear and disgust: Anger.

* * *

I jolt upright from the vinyl seat, lifting up my hands to check for any holes. Nothing. I clench them together and twist frantically to see if my eyes are playing tricks. They had felt real moments ago. They _were_ real moments ago.

"It was just a sim." My heart skips a beat at the sound. Four.

My hand flies over my erratic heart as I slump back in my seat. Reality and logic tries to reason with me, but they fail. "They were real, and I still feel them." My lip trembles as I whisper the words. The holes – hundreds black, soulless eyes – engrained in the back of my mind. I hug my knees to my chest and hide my face between them. "They were real." I repeat shakily, tightening my arms.

"Anna."

I don't reply.

"Anna, you're fine. Your hands are fine, your feet are fine." My head whips out of my pod. _Did he watch everything?_ Four is still in the roller seat, but this time he's next to the computer. His lips are pursed on one side – pitiful. Humiliation hits like lightning, capricious as they come. Blood rushes to my face as the thought of him watching me vomit and scream dances in my head. I cover my face with my hands and groan, internally dying from embarrassment. His words seemed to have done their trick, since all fear and panic has been replaced with mortification. The sound of my heartbeat starts subsides and so does my breathing rate. I'm not sure to thank him or strangle him.

I do neither, since my brain is back up and running. "How long?" I ask; trepidation gnaws at me.

"Honestly I'm shocked. I would have thought you've been faster; divergent and all." _Am I not divergent enough now?_ "Fifteen minutes, forty-eight seconds; just a tad bit faster than the twenty-minute average."

"Well I'll have to thank you for that." I grumble.

His face brightens considerably. "Why, you're-"

"Your 'be brave' speech made me puke my guts out." I interrupt flatly. A blessing in disguise, I suppose.

Four deflates like a balloon. "I'll keep that in mind next time." He replies sourly, face twisted to a scowl.

I can't help but chuckle at his dramatic shift of mood. "But really, thank you, for everything." Four rolls his eyes; but eventually, the corners of his mouth lifts.

* * *

"Yours?"

There's a brief pause. "Snakes." Riley mumbles. My head jerks slightly on surprise. Snakes are typically found in Amity, I can't imagine why she would be afraid of something she hasn't encountered. _Just like your hands?_ A voice counters back. Peering back at my smooth palms, a shudder rushes through me like a cold wind. I don't want to ever go through that again.

"There are snakes in Candor?" Skylar cocks her head to the side, predictably baffled.

Riley's cheeks twinge pink. "I heard some Amity talking about it over lunch in school last year. They were describing how it almost bit them if their dog didn't step in."

And that would be... me.I was adrenaline-drunk that day, suddenly finding the urge to blurt out my encounter with people I've never cared to greet. The girls around me were gasping in horror as I describe how the snake didn't slither away and rose a foot off the ground. I left out the fact that snakes don't normally attack people, unless as an act of self-defense. It was nice to see something other than sick glee wash across their faces. "It didn't help that the science class I had after that was on these reptiles." I want to laugh, but I surprisingly managed to swallow it down.

The sudden hush that cascades through the hall alerts me of the leader's entrance, causing my heart to speed up and create spasms that courses through my body. The excitement of seeing him makes my eyes brighten. But that quickly diminishes; Eric climbs down the steps, face twisted into a scowl. My brows snitch together as I access his mood; confusion sweeps over me like a wave. The young leader had been showing signs of improvement since Capture-the-flag, minus being more tired than usual. According to the grief cycle, I'm unsure where he lies in bargaining, depression and acceptance. My bet should be on depression, but Eric doesn't seem like one to let go easily.

I sigh; I shouldn't be paying unnecessary attention to the man tasked to kill divergents. It would be a disgrace if mother's advice to fell on deaf ears.

Inhaling slowly, I picture myself shutting all thoughts of the young leader into a box and locking it. The key is thrown into the lakes in Amity, where muck and water will bury it deep; never to be found again.

It's the shrill call of my name that pulls me from my imagination. Riley speaks with her mouth full of food; it disgusts me.

My eye twitches. "Pardon?" I ask almost tensely, but still politely; Johanna would be proud.

Riley chews with her mouth open; I'm officially grossed out. It's a wonder how I didn't notice such a despicable habit when I first met her. My will to shut her up then must have overcame all other senses. "What's your fear?"

I blink. The question shouldn't surprise me, since that's all we've been talking about since lunch started. But it does, and I'm not sure why. "Disease." My reply is vague and hopefully boring enough for the Candor to move on. Unlike shaken-up me, Riley is a wreck; her hair is sticking up in various places from where she tugged at the roots; her usual bright hazel eyes are now dull and swollen. _Were the snakes that bad?_ Giving her another cursory glance, it dawns on me that I'm not sure how I look. My hand immediately reaches behind and tug the hair tie loose. "Best not know, lest you start fearing them too." I didn't mean to say anything more, but the awkward silence was unsettling.

By the third wave of boredom and dread that sprouted from listening to the initiates describe their fears, I give into my desires and scan the hall for my eye-candy. Killer or not, a hot guy deserves the attention he earns.

It takes me longer than usual, mainly because there's actually someone sitting across Eric. A man with silver hair talks animatedly to the slightly more relaxed but still scowling leader. From the back, the man's hair is shaved at the sides as well. But unlike Eric, his mid-portion is long, hanging off his forehead slightly. Silver's build is just a tad bit leaner than Eric, who's packed with drool-worthy muscle. My mind wonders briefly on how these men met since from afar, they already seem like polar opposites.

I stay rooted on my seat, curiosity and theories of the history between the men overlapping each other. It's the first time I'm seeing Eric interact with someone outside of training; more often than not, he spends his meals alone in the hall or not at all. I chide myself for assuming that the leader had no friends. Eric is no abandoned puppy with no one to turn to; he's a fully functioning person who does normal things too.

My staring feat ends when the silver man rises from his seat. His features are sharp and undeniably handsome in their own way. The beard he wears is a five-o' clock shadow – meticulously trimmed and shaved to make his cheekbones pop. Eyebrows are thick and angular, creating a mysterious and sexy vibe that could sway me if I didn't already have my eyes set on someone else. Green eyes snap to mine the moment it leaves the grumpy leader, an indication that he knows who I am.

 _Huh._ As if grown accustomed to stares, my face locks and my head cocks to the side; an unintentional challenge. Silver merely grins at me before turning back to the leader, talking with his lips pulled to his ears. The sitting man merely shrugs a shoulder, feigning indifference; at least, I would like to think he is.

I don't sleep much that night, even despite being by the wall. Muffle sobs and heavy breathing prevents sleep from overtaking me. I pray that it will only get better from here. How foolish I was.


	16. Chapter 16

I'm about to take a seat when my name is called.

Lauren stands holding open the door to the room. The sound of my name is foreign to my ears; it's the first time Four isn't overlooking me.

It's also the first time I'm going first. My legs don't move and my brain doesn't work. I've been the last few initiates to be picked these past three days, so what makes today special? The dark-haired instructor turns impatient, repeating my name with underlying contempt. A hand forces me forward, resulting in my feet stumbling over each other.

The Dauntless instructor throws me an insult that falls on deaf ears; _someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed._ I look around the room warily, but it is unsurprisingly identical to Four's. Climbing onto the metal chair, apprehension claws at my consciousness as I try to figure out why I'm here. The thought of voicing my curiously plays teasingly at my mind, though it is the caution that prevents the execution.

The dubiously color liquid enters my field of vision before disappearing to my neck. It is at that moment I make a random note for alcohol to be applied at the injection site.

* * *

"Eleven minutes, fifteen seconds." _Does Four do this to the other initiates too? Inform them of their times robotically?_ I sit up and pat my cheeks with the back of my cold hands. Today's fear was my first abstract one; I'm not sure which I prefer.

My calves are stiff as boards and a brisk glance at the now-blank computer screen tells me that my face is as white as a sheet. Even though the thick hoodie hugs me securely, I feel cold inside. Only when Lauren grips my arm and hauls me out of the chair, do I exit the room independently.

I immediately regret stepping past the threshold.

"I'm taking you to Amity." Every muscle in my body tenses at the baritone voice.

I take a step back to the door, but it slams shut as I bump into it. _Bitch._ Holding my breath, I slowly look up to the Dauntless leader. Eric stands relaxed a few feet away in his sleeveless vest, hands deep in his pockets – the epitome of perceived casualness.

 _'He took away one of ours, saying that his Candor mother was sick. It's been more than a week already.'_ My mother's warning flit wispily in my ears. _'The boy showed signs of divergence.' Eric knows._ My chest constricts painfully at the revelation. Eric must know of what I am for him to bring me out. Never have I ever seen him bring a transfer back to their faction of origin. The air is starting to suffocate me now; the same substance keeping me alive has disappeared, leaving behind a small fraction to tease. I need to escape. My back presses into the door behind me, clinging onto the pathetic hope that Lauren would let me in.

 _But Four would._ My eyes zero in on the door to my right. It's a good distance away but a head start will get me there. _I will survive._

I barely make a step to the side before I'm roughly grabbed by the arms. Panic takes over as I shriek and kick out, managing to hit something soft but firm. Flashes of my sim-father cloud my vision, ' _How could you?'_. It's as if the fear sim is mocking me now that I can't run from reality. The calloused hands around my arms tighten.

A caged feral dog; that's what I've become. ' _After everything that we've done for you... After everything everyone's done for you...'_ My back is struck with cold air before being pushed against the freezing wall. I've failed them; I've failed them _._ A hand covers my mouth as I'm about to scream, muffling the tone undetectable. Eric's body is pressed up against mine, rendering my legs useless for escape. Spews of curses fall of the Dauntless leader as he retrains me with himself. I struggle back, using all the resources and mobility I have to throw him off. But he's an unmoving rock. Nevertheless, I continue to fight back and yell into his hand, praying that Four will come save me.

No one does. I'm full blown panicking now, every warning bell in my head going off like wildfire. There is a loud ringing in my ears and my vision is blurry, rendering both senses useless. My uncoordinated mind rakes through my memory, trying to pull out anything mother has taught me to escape from situations like these. But unlike in training, the intention here is to kill; and that is enough to fog every technique I've learned.

"Fuck Anna, what's gotten into you!" Is what he yells after my forearm has been twisted behind and my cheek is against the wall. As much as I shouldn't say this, I am grateful that the fight has ended. All energy has been sapped from my body, mentally and physically. This is where Eric will take me to anywhere except Amity, most likely to execute me like he did to Amar – Four's divergent instructor – and the Candor boy. "Fucking hell. Is this somehow linked to your fear sims?" His question is sharp like a bark, but has an underlying hint of weariness.

"No."

His response is without hesitation and with a growl. "Liar." I blink. "You know, here I was thinking that you would be prancing around when I told you Johanna wanted to see you." He steps away and rubs his face harshly. There is a small bruise forming on his forearm, one that no one would notice unless they inflicted it.

Johanna wants to see me. Either he is actually taking me to Amity; or a really good liar.

But questioning him will only raise more red flags. "Go change." He snaps. "Preferably something with pockets and boots." No time is given for me to reply as he shoves me towards the dorms, phone already by his ear.

Eric stands outside the dorm snapping orders and sarcastic remarks through the mobile. He's in a foul mood, with the cause being me and whoever's on the other end. The veins that are usually inconspicuous under the tattoos stand out unmistakably now. I pity the person on the receiving end. A clenched fist is held out in front of me. "Take this." There is a moment of hesitation from me, since I am still leery of his intentions. "For protection." He adds on impatiently. I expected a gun, since a gun would be an obvious choice as a weapon of self-defense. Instead, a metal bar falls into my hand – a pocket knife. My eyes snap to his in shock but his back is already to me; never once did I voice out my preference for blades over firearms to anyone.

* * *

It's only when I see the familiar orchards do I believe his claim and apologize.

He doesn't reply; eyes never straying from the road. Eric's perpetual scowl has yet to cease, keeping the air in the Caiman truck tense. I sit at the edge of my seat, regretting my choice of choosing shotgun. My boots are tight and stiff on my feet; a subtle torture device. The pants are no better with their baggy feel throughout, a far cry from the leggings and skirts I wore my whole life. The rough material of the pants makes it feel heavy, draggy and hot – every adjective about clothing I dislike; well, with the exception of sparkly.

When the truck rolls to a stop meters away from the barn I realize something: my dogs are here. _Did something happen to them that Johanna requested for me?_ My fingers curls around the edge of my seat. There were a million things that could go wrong; injury, sickness, lash-outs, depression, disappearance, death. A ball forms at my throat, one I can't swallow. I shouldn't have left them.

The door is thrown open, revealing a very infuriated Eric; the scowl on his face seems like a permanent fixture. I stumble out of the vehicle before he can say anything, too distracted to even mumble a thanks. The ground is soft and familiar, a stark difference to the uneven concrete my new faction has to offer. I don't make a step when a hand grips painfully at my forearm. "We take Faction over blood-"

Irritation sparks in me; I've just about had it. "Yeah I know." There are more important matters to attend to than his stupid speech.

But the consequences of my actions only register the moment his nostrils flare. _Shit._ The moment he takes a step forward, I start to understand why everyone is afraid of him. Eric towers over me by almost an entire foot, breathing ragged as he tries to get a grip. My back hits the metal truck, reminding me of earlier outside of the sims room. But unlike then, Eric is the one who initiated it now. I'm definitely in deep shit. "You-"

He's cut off by a noise, one that didn't come from me. 'Thup.' Something just landed on the truck.

It's the body that anticipatedly brushes past my legs that confirms my hunch. My blood runs cold. Everything is starting to roll out just peachy. Why did I not put up more of a fight when we were leaving Dauntless? "Do. Not. Move." Each syllable is strained and robotic, a small comparison of the dread I'm experiencing. I dig my hand into the mass of fur to restrain the dog. It jolts beneath me, releasing a snarl that tears through the air.

Forcing myself to think, the index and middle finger touch my thumb as I count; one above, one in front.

 _Crap; crap; crap._ There is something dangerous about Sabre when he's in hiding, for it means that whoever's getting the end of his jaws will never see it coming. The grey dog has the hunting instincts of a wolf, making him ridiculously deft at being a predator. Green grass greet me from both sides, stretched out far with no patch of silver in sight. At this point in time, there is only one thing I can do. "Hold!"

A beat of nothing passes and the leader still stands unscathed. Another snarl enters my ears as I sigh in relief. _Thank the heavens._ This was a close call. Though my dogs have been programmed to only engage in hostiles at command, they are _still_ animals, and animals may get ahead of themselves sometimes.

The fur beneath my palm continues to jolt forward, snapping its jaws before recoiling like there's a chain restraining him. Eric's eyes are wide; I'm just glad he's still alive. "Back off." I raise my voice over the snapping; it stops. A familiar coat of black and brown moves to stand in front of me, forcing the man to take a few steps back. Hunter doesn't stop there, continuing forward step by step and flashing his teeth warningly, hackles raised. "Hey! Hey! Ears down." The dog pauses with a paw in the air but doesn't back off, bending its forelegs slightly like a lion stalking its prey.

All tension is broken when a howl sounds from behind the stunned leader. The outcry is deep and throaty, no doubt travelling for miles on end. A grin spreads throughout my cheeks as all dread and worry flies out the window; I'm home. Pure delight blossoms from my chest, pushing all the thoughts of the leader and the almost-mishap far far away. Two weeks. It's been almost two weeks since I've been separated from my fur babies, since I've went on an adventure or cuddled with them. I'm glad the wait is over.

'Tack, tack, tack, tack, tack' Is the sound a dog's feet makes on metal – uncoordinated and never-ending. "Hi Hawk." My voice takes on a babyish-tone, one I only use on them. The dog lands in front of me, tail wagging so hard that its entire body follows with it. He's doing the excited dance on the spot; body shaking, feet pattering, tongue lolled to the side. "Hi." I'm down to the dog's level before he can jump on me, hands grabbing his furry face as he surges forward to greet me. "Hi." Giggles explode within me as Hawk licks my face and then starts pushing his side against my chest. He spins round and round frantically, rubbing his fur all over my front before settling two paws on my shoulders. My arms go around him as he pants in my left ear, short clip whines escaping between quick breaths. He's such a cutie. Before I know it, I'm spinning him in circles. Hawk barks and licks my face, for once not minding being treated like a lap dog.

I only put the dog down once I felt my grip slipping through his fur. It is then do the deafening howls cease for a minute before erupting again much closer to me. Sabre has his muzzle vertical to the sky, front paws alternate on being lifted slightly. "Sabre." I crawl to him with Hawk still hopping and attacking me. "Sabre, hey." Gentle movements pull the dog's head down to my eye level. "Hey big boy." I coo, a hand going up to stroke his ear. The dog stops howling immediately and barks once. His front body drops to the ground with his ass shaking in the air – a comical sight. Cocking his head to the side for a millisecond, he takes off without warning. The hyperactive dog kicks of the dirt on the ground, dashing off at neck-breaking speeds in large ovals. Every time he comes a circuit which ends with dashing past me, he tackles poor Hawk, jaws closing loosely around one of his legs before taking off again.

My final dog stays rooted where I last saw him. The fur on his neck are no longer perked but his ears are trained towards the dangerous man. "Gunner." His ear twitches in recognition but other than that he doesn't move a muscle. Its only when I'm sitting on my heels in front of him does his composure collapse. Gone is the trained protector, replaced by what some may call as a 'pathetic puppy'. His ears lay flat against his skull and his elbows bend; a position who if anyone saw, won't believe his capabilities. This mighty beast had warp into a whimpering mess, making my heart ache for him. Arms hug Gunner close to me, tears springing my eyes as the reality of how much I've missed them hits. I am overwhelmed by the feelings of homesickness and regret. Unlike Hawk, Gunner doesn't put his paws on my shoulder; instead, he remains seated, face buried into my chest with a single paw pawing my thigh. Sobs wreck through me like how the whimpers wreck through his, raw and overwhelming. "I'm so sorry." I choke it out like he understands my words, because deep down I know this intelligent being does. Gunner continues to push against me, trying to get closer even though there's no space left between us. My lips are on his fluffy head, murmuring endearments and comforts. His coat is soft like a cloud, just like how I remembered it to be, reigniting the nights where he would lay by my side like an oversized teddy. Those nights were the ones I love the most.

Of course, since these dogs were born, no misery ever lasted long. The other two broke our bubble of gloom – a self-appointed duty they never failed to do. They nudge my cheeks and neck accompanied by hot breaths in the ear, just enough for me to chuckle and push them away.

"Now this, is the reunion I've been waiting for." My ears prick at the soothing voice.

I hastily erase traces of sadness before turning to my previous faction leader. "Thank you." The expression lacks the emptiness it usually holds when used as courtesy.

A hand extends to my face in assistance to pull me up. Like most Amity greetings, I'm pulled into a bone-crushing hug. "Welcome home."

* * *

Turns out, Johanna had requested for me in exchange for Eric to meet her over new security implements – or so I'm told.

I had forgotten about the young man until he cleared his throat, startling me. Eric hasn't really moved from the spot Gunner back him into. It appears that he is stunned **and** more relaxed than normal, an odd expression considering that he was basically threatened minutes ago. Johanna greets him stiffly, which would be hard to tell if one didn't see her interact with the rest of the general Amity population.

Keeping up her end of the bargain, Johanna leads us to her office-stable so they may discuss in privacy. Eric never once spare me a glance since the dog incident. Though such ignorance should turn my mood downhill, the dogs were too distracting for that to happen. Gunner stays almost pressed to my side; nose constantly nudging my hand for pets. The other rascals tackle and takedown each other, making me think that they skipped their morning exercise.

John is at the stables when we enter. In his hands is a large cardboard box, one that goes from his waist to chin. "Kelly made these for them." He pipes excitedly after the two leaders had left. Kelly is an Amity woman just a year younger than John. She makes all the harnesses, clothing, and equipment dogs may need throughout their life. Her expertise on this area and imagination to create new gadgets has made her well respected among the faction, even at such a young age. So naturally, any new items from Kelly was sure to perk me up.

The first appliance is called the 'loop muzzle'. It looked nothing like the ugly fully covered plastic muzzles that I used when the dogs were adolescents. The contraption was simply a collar with a loop that goes around the base of the snout. It prevents biting without restricting actions like eating, drinking and panting. The loop around the muzzle is padded and small in width, making the dog look less vicious compared to if it wore a basket muzzle. As if it weren't already amazing enough, the side-release buckle can be easily swapped out with a pull-release one. "Easy deployment." John says smugly as the nylon falls off Gunner's snout with a swift thug.

The following items are two types of vests, both for very different uses. The improved tactical vest has a sleeker and smaller design with hidden compartments underneath to slip in small knives or messages. Small packs can be attached to the vest separately, allowing versatility in all situations. Then there is the 'work' vest – courtesy of John for converting my dogs into messenger pigeons. Like the tactical vests, these too are very versatile. The sides are covered with one-sided buckles to allow switching between packs of all sizes. These vests cover almost the entire back of the dog, unlike the tactical ones that end behind the shoulders. The work vests are much more padded, no doubt to cushion and distribute heavy weights. D-rings are also fitted to either side of the vest, two on each side. To top it off, each vest comes in three colors. Army green for Gunner; black for Sabre; mud for Hawk.

And last but not least, a brand-new bite suit. John was most excited over the new sack of black Nanotech, wiggling into it with slight difficulty before calling Sabre over. This new and improved clothing is much less baggy and sleeker compared to its holey counterpart.

To my defense, I had to stitch up the previous bite suit using boot shafts farmers used. The wellingtons were made by the Erudite for the farmers after snake-bite cases increased. Building such armor required my blood, sweat, and tears as I had to cut them up and then snitch them together; it didn't help that its most prominent property was 'impenetrable'. I wonder how Kelly managed to get ahold of such a carefully regulated material.

Sabre latches onto the renowned punching bag's propped arm after a clipped command. John lifts the beast from the ground, his suit barely hanging down from the weight. "It's amazing isn't it." He wheezes, swinging the dog side to side while it violently jerks its head. "It's just loose and soft enough to mimic human flesh, but not enough to make me trip over my feet."

I grunt. A twinge of mild annoyance flares in me. Never has John complimented my bite suit like he did to Kelly's.

Feeling a little salty, I purposely let Sabre have his go on him before calling him off. Without the added weight, John slumps onto the wall, beads of sweat already trailing down his forehead. Sabre trots up to hug me standing, his energy levels finally low enough to properly welcome me back. The unexpected mass makes me stumble back slightly. _Has he gained weight?_ "What have you been feeding them?" I look over to my cousin while trailing a hand down Sabre's ribs. _Yep, definitely gained weight._

"Just an adjustment on food." He says. My eye twitches. The meal plans for my dogs was meticulously constructed by me and dad after hours of research and months of trials. "Adrian and I have been experimenting on grounded meat, so it's more easily packable and transportable when the dogs head to Dauntless." Now my lips twitch instead. I guess that's thoughtful of him. "It's essentially the same proportions as to what is usually given, minus the bones that are still given at the side. I must have mixed up the amounts, since it's easy to overestimate when it's compact." John has gone into his Erudite mode, all analytical and calculating. "I'll have to weigh them and translate their mass into weight of food given. 90% of the meal is meat and organs yeah?"

"Yes. Oh, and you could add the supplements in too."

His face perks up and he points at me. "Right… that would make a ton of things easier." He grabs a cloth to wipe off the saliva on the suit. "We could vacuum pack to make the meats last longer. Maybe a week?" I don't get to reply or thank him as he picks up the box and carries it off, talking to himself whenever he's given a challenge.

* * *

Eric decides to stay for lunch.

I'm shocked, to say the least. It's pretty obvious that the young leader has never agreed to such a horrendous request before by the sneer he gives to every hippie he passes. Gunner stands between me and the man, effectively creating space that isn't necessary in such a packed area. Eric hasn't particularly spoken or acknowledge me yet, but at least he isn't treating me like everyone else – with contempt and brashness.

Even with all the sneers and frowns, there were still whispers that occasionally popped here and there. I wouldn't been bothered by it if it weren't for the fact that they came mostly from girls; single girls. At that realization, Eric's mood seeps into mine. A scowl plasters onto my face as I glare at the dazed girls. They aren't even the slightest bit bothered; _bitches_. Killer or not, the women don't deserve to have or ogle him.

Without a hint of bashfulness, I slide my tray closer him and shuffle my ass down the bench. The chewing beside me stops briefly before starting back up again, I'm not sure if he's smirking.

A hard kick at my shin makes me yelp, dropping my burger to rub the sore area. Gunner is propped up on the bench in a second, alarmed and facing Eric. I pat his shoulder twice and turn to glare at John who sits across me. My cousin's eyes are wide, looking at me crazy. I do my best to mimic his expression childishly before going back to my food.

A familiar flash of orange from my peripheral causes my hand to dart out. "Don't eat that." The dinner roll lays dejectedly on the plank table. "Contains peace serum."

Eric coughs into his fist. "Thanks."

The steak knife is back in my palm, viciously slicing through the apple in my other hand. Most of the Amity girls didn't look away when I had practically proclaimed that Eric's mine. So, I decided that some danger would do the trick. The process is simple: Make sure to hold their gaze; send the blade through the poor fruit with an exaggerated speed; wait for them to look away petrified; give the apple slice to Gunner.

I repeat the process until no one was gaping at the handsome leader. Johanna eats with a smile on her face while John still has that crazed look. When I drop the knife and apple core do I realize that Eric had finished his meal much earlier and was blatantly watching the show. He has a full-blown smirk now, one so big that I can see it when his head isn't to me. I clear my throat awkwardly, having the urge to excuse myself. It takes me a while to figure out what to say but I managed. "Thank you Johanna, for the hospitality." My voice is robotic but it'll to do.

* * *

John takes slightly longer to restrain the dogs who know that me heading towards the truck equates to me leaving them behind; times like these are when they are too smart for their own good. The peace-laced treats have yet to kick in their systems, which means that they are currently jolting and yowling from the barn.

I cringe as I pull the door shut. Eric sat in the car watching the whole ordeal. He had a cocky smirk on the whole way back to the truck, making the idea of him consuming some peace serum not too far-fetched. When it was time for us to depart, he told me softly to take my time with the dogs, saying that he'll wait in the truck. His words took a while to sink in as I'm not used to the tone, so I stupidly blinked at him. "Ah." Was all I manage to throw out. It was a pleasant surprise; for I've never seen the malicious leader show a gentler, caring side in front of other people.

My farewell with my dogs consisted of me promising that I'll be back. But judging by how Hawk suddenly started yowling, I don't think they understood. Sabre quickly caught on the situation and started tugging at the collar John was gripping. My poor cousin was lurched back and forth from the weight like a ragdoll, which I would've found amusing if my heart didn't hurt to leave them again.

It was Gunner who put a stop to the Belgian Malinois' antics. The largest beast rose mightily, lifted his tail, puffed out his chest and snapped at the two hounds. Though his efforts did help John to regain his composure, the dogs were back at it after mere seconds of cowering.

I wait for the yowling to stop – which was a long time – before speaking up. "They can be a bit… loud… Sorry." The dogs are making horrible impressions for the person who will somewhat decide their fate in a week and half – once initiation ends.

Eric's facing front, towards the stable and dogs. His head is slightly tilted in fascination. "They seem pretty… attached." He says distractedly. "Yours?"

This conversation is starting to get weird. "Err yeah." I wring me hands together, unsure of his seemingly calm mood. Honestly, I expected him to snap at me. For spending pretty much all my time here with the dogs, Johanna and John; for going against the whole 'Faction over blood' crap. Throughout the whole visit, I barely stuck by the leader; and it wasn't because Gunner was nudging me a safe distance away, though it was a good visible excuse. My time and energy were spent on catching up with John and the latest nifty tricks he taught my hounds. Though some were impressive, like grabbing items when pointed at, most were unflattering.

"Look, look, look!" Is the phrase he uses that braces me to cringe. One of his 'greatest' accomplishments is when he forms a circle with his fingers and the dog will stick his snout in it. "You so smart eh? Yes, yes, a very smart smartie." He coos after every successful attempt, squishing the dog's face together as the tail wags. I try to stand behind my cousin when he exhibits his tricks; gives me the freedom to grimace without offending. In retrospect, I _suppose_ that these tricks could come in handy for the dogs when they get to Dauntless; I'll just need to figure out in what way.

Eric's voice snaps me out of my thoughts. "Why leave?" He's still staring at the barn where my dogs had disappeared into. "You have everything you want here." His voice is curious but has a slight distaste. Picking up on his tone, I choose to thread carefully.

My head leans against the window as I relax into my seat. "No, not everything." I say quietly. These two words can be interpreted differently depending on the person. The first – the thrill of adventure. Despite Amity being the biggest faction area-wise, there wasn't much to do other than farming, singing and dancing. Even with all the trees and natural landscapes, normal apple-pickers don't venture out from the comfort of the fields. Dauntless though, offers adrenaline rushes with a sense of danger. Train jumping and protecting the city is sure to keep one on their toes, for one can't slack when doing such tasks. Ask me two years ago, and this would be my answer – that Amity was dull. But now with my dogs, I've spent hours at places that were left untouched. Curious ones, these beasts; they would dive head first when we approach a forest and it's hard to not follow them. With my dogs providing safety and fun simultaneously, it's impossible for me to ever find Amity dull again.

The second interpretation is one an infatuated person would wish for – to be with the man from the fence. Honestly, the man – Eric – wasn't what pushed me towards the glowing coals; in fact, his contribution was so minuscule that it might as well not be there. Sure, the man on the fence was the first time a man really noticed me. But had I stayed back here in Amity, I could've found someone right for me – someone like John preferably. Plus, it would be foolish of me to think that the man was a perfect fit just because he is curious about a flower-sniffer.

Looking at him now, with his posture relaxed and any hint of the stress of being a leader gone, I could imagine a life with him. One without any worries of divergents and all that slaughtering crap. One where we would come home from work and relax on the couch, maybe have the dogs by our feet as we watch a movie. One where I would make one of the few dishes I know – lasagna perhaps – and he would be watching in fascination or distracting me with showers of affection.

But as soon as the scene is created, it's gone.

A fantasy; that's all it is, just like all the times my mind wanders when I stare deep into his slate blue eyes. It is inane to hope that such a wild man like this would change his ways. 'You love the person as they are now, not who you wish they become', was father's words. People don't change for someone else, to fit a certain mold the other has shaped; even if they did, it will only last so long. A lie their relationship will be, only needing a small trigger point for everything to break loose. But with all the advice I've been giving and studying Eric now, I can't help but cling to the hope that there's more to this man than what everyone perceives.


End file.
